Mute Spark
by Falcon's Hyperdrive
Summary: She's an enigma, a femme with a foot in two worlds: grown, yet with the mind of a youngling. And she's terrified of making a sound. The girl's got problems, but she's so used to them. Now Earth is about to find out about those problems, and it gets front-row seats to the chaos that might just be about to unfold.
1. The Beginning:  Part 1

This is a collection of all my stories with Mute Spark, my OC in the Autobot Club on deviantART. My username there is FuzzySlipper, and you can find it by clicking my homepage link in my profile. Anyhoo, feel free to ask whatever questions you can think of. I never bother putting a disclaimer because, let's face it . . . We ALL know none of us own _Transformers_! All characters except canon characters and those otherwise specified are owned by me. I'll let you know who's whose at the end. One final note, this is set in a sort of AU future G1. Bear in mind, I have not seen much of it. Please tell me if I make a mistake, but otherwise, for all intents and purposes, the whole thing is AU. With that said, enjoy!

* * *

**Mute Spark:**

**_The Beginning_**

By Falcon's Hyperdrive

A.k.a. FuzzySlipper

Begun 3-18-10

Finished 4-12-10

* * *

_**Part One**_

Space was a vast expanse, appropriately called a void. Planets were far between, and not all of them could sustain organic life.

This life, however, was not organic.

Mechs and femmes bustled about on the bridge of the Autobot ship, the _Celestial_, as it powered through the star-specked darkness. They were hard at work, communications officers monitoring for communiques between Decepticons, tactical checking up on weapons systems, and the captain deep in a discussion with his first officer.

One of the mechs monitoring the radio waves sat up quickly, alerting everyone to a change. "I've got something!" he shouted toward the captain.

Recount moved quickly despite his large, thirty-five foot form, and was soon leaning over the comm officer's shoulder to peer at the display. "Talk to me."

The officer nodded. "Decepticon activity in grid C-9 of this sector. It's coming from an outpost on a moon orbiting a gas planet."

Recount's optics narrowed. "Gamma Base? Those were neutrals. Primus, I dread to see what's happened . . . Helm! Set a course for grid C-9, destination Gamma Base outpost."

"Sir!"

Recount clapped the comm officer on the shoulder. "Good work, Blitz. Let me know if you find anything else."

**...**

Caution was employed heavily as the _Celestial_ approached the moon from the opposite side as the outpost. There were five Decepticons, a token force, but it would still do well to take them off guard. Based on the destruction the ship was already detecting, the Decepticons deserved no less than to share that fate.

Recount was quick to devise a strategy with his tacticians. Their small Special Operations Unit would head in, taking the trash out quick and clean. A mech named Swift was in charge of the operation, heading up the two groups of three. He and his soldiers were to sweep the outpost for salvageable parts afterwards, reporting to the _Celestial_ when they found any. After that, the warriors and the engineers would move in.

Recount took in the sight of the six SpecOps as they stood there at attention, evaluating their track record in a moment. The first in line was short Swift, a fast little mech who could get in and out of a hideout in the beat of a spark. Next was Overcast, storm gray and tall, one of the sneakiest mechs Recount had ever met. Stopper, average height, bulky but silent. In the next squad, tall, slender Shadowblade, expert at infiltration, sabotage, and assassination. His subordinates were Backdraft, average-sized and deadly, and his younger brother, small and speedy Punisher. They were all excellent soldiers, good at what they did. Together, they were the entire Special Operations Unit, a pretty good number actually for the ship's size and crew compliment.

The captain stopped before them, watching as they stood at stiff order. Nodding in satisfaction, he smiled grimly. "Do you all understand your orders, mechs?"

"Sir, yes, sir!" came the resounding call from the SpecOps.

"Good. Go get them."

**...**

Without mercy.

That was how the Decepticons were dealt with, slaughtered from behind before they knew what hit them. The leader went first, a cocky mech preening in front of a mirror. The look of shock on his face was priceless as Shadowblade drove his energon sword into his spark.

The others soon followed. The second Con fell to the practiced hand of Stopper, the third to Overcast. The fourth fell to Backdraft and Punisher together, teaming up for the kill. The final one went to Swift, offline in a moment. The bodies piled together to salvage parts from, the SpecOps spread out, searching the shells that used to be homes and a laboratory.

It was here, in the last place, that Shadowblade found her.

**...**

Shadowblade sighed heavily, venting harshly in the slight atmosphere. "You guys found anything yet?"

"_Nah,"_ answered Backdraft, completely bored. _"It's all rubble. Ooh, look it! I found an empty _cube_!"_

Shadowblade snickered appreciatively at his friend's sarcasm. "I'm surprised the Cons didn't take that, too. Probably would've held energon all right."

"_Should I add it to the pile, then?"_

Shadowblade snorted. "Ask Captain Recount. Heads up, I'm heading into the lab."

"_Gotcha. Careful in there, now. Wouldn't want Flareup after my skin for letting you die on my watch."_

"Oh, no, of course not," the saboteur chuckled. "All right, I'm going in."

"_Copy that."_

Carefully, slowly, Shadowblade eased himself through the half-blocked doorway. A support beam had crashed down in front of it, and now rested at an angle that covered the top portion of the door. Being as agile as he was, the gray-colored mech was able to duck underneath the beam.

Shadowblade got on the comm again, signaling Recount. "Got some good metal, here, in the lab. Support beam, decent quality. I'm going to check out the rest of the building for other stuff before we consider bringing the place down."

"_Copy that, Shadowblade. Watch out for falling rubble."_

"Got it. Shadowblade out."

His next obstacle was a pile of the very rubble he was warned about, the way it had settled hinting that it had been there a while. He climbed over it, skillfully avoiding sending any pebbles rolling. Swift and silent, he was, a veritable ninja.

Okay, maybe not.

He came to a stop on the other side, wary blue optics watching for any sign of danger. A sound, miniscule in volume, came from the left, and he spun, plasma pistol in hand and aimed.

His CPU froze at what he saw, not quite comprehending what he was seeing. "Holy Primus . . ."

"_Shadowblade? What is it?"_

Shadowblade got into gear, stowing his pistol and raising his hands in a gesture of peace. "_Celestial_, get the Med Bay prepped, double time. Easy, little one . . . I'm an Autobot. I'm here to help."

The youngling cowered back further in its corner, not even uttering a peep. In response, Shadowblade knelt and held out his hands in a "come to me" gesture, smiling softly. It tilted its head, regarding him, the yellow optics of a neutral shining dully in the darkness. Finally, after a long, tense moment, it reached out, crawling forward slightly.

Shadowblade moved quickly to pick the youngling up, cradling it against his chassis. It panicked for a moment, but he stroked the weakened youngling's helm soothingly. "Shh. It's all right. My sparkmate's a medic. She'll fix you right up, get you good and healthy again. You don't have to be alone anymore, or hide in rubble. You're safe, now."

His words combined with the calming touch caused the little bot to relax, shivering slightly in a release of tension. Carefully, slowly, Shadowblade started back over the rock pile. The roof creaked ominously, signaling its intent, and the youngling snuggled closer in its fear. Shadowblade held it close, and dared to move a little faster. Rocks skittered down the mound, and then he was over the peak. He stumbled slightly in his hurry down, an avalanche of pebbles preceding him. The ceiling groaned again, fractures appearing in the rugged surface, and he sped up even more. He had to get out of there before the whole thing crashed down upon them.

At last, the roof could take no more. Huge chunks of rock broke free, and he dove through the hole just in time to avoid a hunk of rubble coming down right where he had been. A plume of dust followed him and the youngling out, and he slid a few yards on his back upon landing as he turned in the air, the gravel digging mercilessly at his gray paint job. He was quite willing to sacrifice that, however, as the youngling curled up soundlessly in his protecting arms.

His teammates came running. "Blade!" Swift shouted, heading up the group rushing to him. "Shadowblade! You okay?"

Shadowblade struggled to his feet, groaning. "Yeah, I'm fine. You guys work on getting that support beam right there. I'm taking this little one back to the _Celestial_."

"What-" Swift stopped himself, finally seeing the youngling in his arms, and the two squads gasped in amazement. "That's a youngling!"

"Yeah, no freakin' dur. Permission to go, sir?"

Swift nodded quickly. "Hurry, soldier. I'll let the _Celestial_ know you're on the way with precious cargo."

Shadowblade grinned, and looked tenderly at the small black bot in his arms. "Precious," he murmured. It looked up at him, and he beamed. "Hold on tight, little one," he advised. "And bid this rock goodbye."

**...**

Flareup stroked the little one's scuffed black helm soothingly, smiling gently as the small being recharged. Her red and white armor was in stark contrast with Shadowblade's dirty gray as he held her in his arms, relief evident in his stance. The youngling was going to survive, and they were alive after that close call leaving the lab. The others in the unit had also come back to the ship, leaving the warriors and engineers to work on getting the support beam out of the collapsed laboratory. The other medics had long since gone to scavenge what they could from the dead Decepticons, leaving the bonded pair alone with the little bot who had everyone astir.

Flareup sighed in contentment. "It's a she, by the way."

Her bonded gave a little start. "A femme? Wow."

She nodded. "We're going to have to start working on a frame for her. By my estimate, we'll need it within the next fifty orns or so. Her spark's nearly mature, even if she quite isn't."

Shadowblade regarded the femme youngling sadly. "She was alone in that place for who knows how long. And remember, she has no memory of anything before the attack. She's bound to revert to youngling behavior even in her third frame."

Flareup nodded. "And she still refuses to utter any sound whatsoever. It will take many, many orns for her to grow out of that."

The mech nodded into her shoulder. "It will be hardwired into her CPU by now. She couldn't afford to make a sound on that outpost, where a Decepticon would have heard it and have killed her."

"Well, at the very least, she can communicate with her comm link, so she's not quite voiceless. And should she ever choose to speak again, she has that option. Has the captain said anything about what he wants to do, yet?"

Shadowblade nodded. "We're going to keep her aboard. He's asking for volunteers to take her in as a surrogate daughter."

Flareup grinned. "And what do you say to that?"

Shadowblade kissed the back of her helm. "I was waiting for you to say what you wanted. If you want us to become her guardians, I am all for it. What would you like to name her?"

The head medic stroked the youngling's helm again. "Mute Spark," she decided. "We can call her Spark for short."

Her bonded nodded happily. "I like it. When she wakes up, we'll ask her about it."

Flareup leaned closer to him and rested her head against his shoulder. "Sounds like a plan."

Shadowblade smiled. _=Captain, sir, Flareup and I would like to volunteer to be the youngling femme's guardians.=_

_=Application approved, soldier. And, might I say . . . Good luck.=_

Shadowblade snorted. Good luck, indeed.

* * *

Orn=13 days

1 year=28.079 orns

..

Recount named by fellow devaintART member **AznLi**

Flareup is my own character. She is not Flare Up, and I'm not even entirely sure who that is. :-P


	2. The Beginning: Part 2

_**Part Two**_

Finally, the day arrived. The youngling's third frame was completed, and the one million, two hundred and one-year-old was about to take the next step in her life. She had declined taking on a name back when she first became Flareup and Shadowblade's surrogate daughter, leaving that hallmark for when she switched frames and became an Autobot, as per her request. As a youngling, she couldn't truly join them, even though she was trained to be a medic by Flareup and a saboteur by Shadowblade. Other mechs and femmes aboard taught her other skills, such as science by Livewire, the chief engineer, dancing by the communications officer Blitz – much to her guardians' consternation – and sniping by the warrior Swiftcast. Recount even gave her lessons in his free time on working through puzzles. She already knew how to play an instrument, the skill superseding her memory loss. Alone for years on that outpost, she had plenty of time to develop her art skills, and happily dazzled her guardians with paintings of sights she saw amongst the stars, like the nebula they had passed one orn.

_Alone._ The thought terrified her, as everyone discovered one day after a skirmish with Decepticons. She had stayed in a room off of Med Bay, far out of danger, and the first thing she had done afterwards was rush into her guardians' arms and shake with soundless sobs. Ever since then, someone had always stayed with her. Paradoxically, she hated crowds, so it was very fitting that Recount had wished them good luck when they took on the responsibility of taking care of the young femme.

Little Spark, as some had come to call her, peeked her yellow optics up over the edge of the berth at her new body. It wasn't very tall compared to her guardians, who were both twenty-three to twenty-eight feet tall. In fact, Flareup was the former, Shadowblade the latter. It was amazing the places he could get into, though. As for her own new body, it was eighteen feet in length, and the armor and helm were completely white, with the skin a light gray and the audio receptors a much darker shade. Dark gray bands went around her middle and collar and her upper arms, where the white ended, and stark red crosses stood out on the white of the arms, signifying that she was a medic.

The head was an interesting conglomeration on top of this. There were quite a few panels on it, matching the two on each of her shoulders. The helm was rounded, but triangular projections were affixed just behind the audio receptors on each side, folded up fan-like fins on the head. The features were fair and smooth, with turquoise optics right where they should be. Standing prominently out on the helm, even more so than the crosses on her arms, was a sort of projection in the shape of an uneven pentagon, in the center of which was the bright red Autobot insignia.

Trembling in excitement, the youngling looked at the rest of the body. There was slightly boxy armor on her forearms, also white, and it looked like there was some sort of panel on them, too. The only gray showing on her stomach was a rectangular patch, stretching from the dark gray band on her torso to the band circling her waist. It was a rather modest style, for which she was grateful, and her legs were encased in light armor, again in white, and with odd panels going down the sides. Looking up into the face of her femme guardian, she saw a bright smile. "Do you like it?"

Spark nodded happily, her optics brightening. She soundlessly clapped her hands twice, bouncing in place, and tilted her head in a silent question.

Shadowblade laughed, coming up behind his bonded and putting an arm around her shoulders, his other hand rubbing the youngling's helm. "We can start the transfer whenever you're ready, little one. Are you?"

Spark reached upwards, and Shadowblade lifted her onto the berth. "All right, then . . . Flareup?"

Flareup smiled. "Lay down, now, honey. You're going to have to go into recharge. When you wake up, you'll be a whole new you."

The idea very much appealed to the youngling. This was, in effect, a way of saying goodbye to the old, lonely her. That was why she refused to take an official name before.

Flareup reached over and rubbed the little femme's black helm. "Now, then. Let's get started, shall we?"

**...**

Optics opened to blink up at the world, now in a whole new perspective. The sterile room seemed smaller, somehow, and when she looked down, she discovered the reason why.

Gray fingers wiggled in front of her face, sensations telling her that she was the one doing the action. The weight was different, and she spent a moment concentrating on that fact, just moving her arm back and forth. A soft laugh drew her attention, and she turned her head to see Flareup and Shadowblade smiling down at her. Flareup rubbed her helm, and she grinned happily at the familiar action. Next, she moved her other arm, then each of her legs. Soon after that, she made to sit up, and got a steadying hand from Shadowblade. She rolled her head next, getting used to the feelings, and stretched. Everything was as it should be, but there was a little bit . . . more? She was reading extra systems, including weaponry.

Flareup seemed to sense her confusion. "It's your third frame," she explained. "This is when you get all the upgrades and systems that go with the fact. You have a vocalizer, but it's deactivated, and should you ever want to talk, you can easily turn it on. Now, there's a small energon sword sub-spaced in your right leg. See this, right here? Grab it and pull. We'll get you some plasma pistols, tranquilizers, and a cutting torch and welder, but there's two special features we added."

Shadowblade grinned. "First is the panels you were puzzling over. Try triggering them."

Triggering them? Spark shrugged and tried it, and was startled when all the panels flared up, the fanned blades on her head spreading out. Her guardians chuckled at her reaction, and Spark relaxed. In response, the panels and blades reverted back to their previous states.

Flareup grinned. "We got the inspiration from my name. They respond to your emotions if you let them, so they're an extra way of communicating for you. Body language says a lot. They are also sensory, aiding you in sniping, and you can flare the panels to catch someone off guard, giving you a chance to act or get away. What do you think?"

Spark beamed happily. _=I like it! Thank you so much!=_

Flareup rubbed her helm. "You're welcome, honey. Shadowblade?"

"Ah, yes." Shadowblade had a pleased smile on his lips. "The other system is called Last Resort. And," he continued, his gaze and voice turning serious, "it truly is. Try triggering it."

Spark obeyed, jumping as two cannons popped up on top of her arms, from wrist to just before the elbow. She studied them carefully, her experience with weapons warning her that these might not be all that they appeared.

Shadowblade tapped one gently. "They will pop up in times of extreme duress. You must be careful in your decision to use them. They pack quite a punch, and use a lot of power. As such, we've installed a safeguard that will prevent you from firing if you're too low on energy. You can override this, but I strongly advise against it. If you fire it when you're too weak, you could very well die. Do you understand?"

Spark nodded. _=Don't use this until I absolutely need to. Got it.=_

"Good." Her mech guardian gave her a proud smile, and it was his turn to rub her helm affectionately. "Unfortunately, due to limited resources, we weren't able to give you much armor. We'll get it to you, though, at the first opportunity. Your frame is plenty strong enough to support it. Now, your altmode is a type of Cybertronian hover-car. Make no mistake, however; you are not a jet. You'll be fast, faster than most, so that makes up some for lack of weaponry or heavy armor. If you get in a dangerous situation, you can get out of there quickly."

_=Like if I accidentally run across Decepticons? Or if I pull a prank?=_

Shadowblade fixed her with a humored, halfhearted glare. "You are incorrigible. I thank Primus that you're not as bad as this pair of twins I've heard about. Ready to get a feel for your new body?"

Spark nodded vigorously. As she hopped off of the medical berth, wobbling slightly but caught by Flareup, her optics caught sight of a small black form on another berth nearby. _=Is that . . .?=_

"Yup," Shadowblade confirmed. "That was yours."

_=Oh. What are you going to do with it?=_

Flareup smiled and pat her head. "We're going to keep it in storage until we need it. There may be a sparkling out there that could use it, or maybe a youngling if their body is damaged too much."

Spark beamed. It felt wonderful that she could help someone even indirectly. She started forward, but paused in front of a mirror. Reaching up to touch the emblem on her forehead, she felt her smile grow into a broad, nearly blinding grin.

Her guardians chuckled. Together, they came up behind her and placed one hand each on her shoulders. Shadowblade was the one to voice their thoughts.

"Welcome to the Autobots . . . Mute Spark."

And just like that, it was as if she had been reborn.

* * *

_Images of Mute Spark are on my deviantART account._


	3. The Beginning: Part 3

_**Part Three**_

It had been less than one-eighth of a vorn. Two hundred eighty orns, actually, give or take a few. Apparently, this equaled ten Earth years. Why was this distinction important?

Because Recount had received a message from Optimus Prime, and that was where they were headed.

Mute Spark was a bundle of nervous energy at the announcement, peppering her guardians and crew mates with questions to which they had no answers. After all, they had never been to Earth before.

She hadn't grown up much in the past few years, Mute Spark. Well, not in her normal frame of mind. Put her in a Med Bay with an Autobot to repair, though, and she became focused and vastly more mature. Times like these, Flareup had to forcibly remind herself that her surrogate daughter still had the mind of a child. The focus had transferred itself to other occasions, as well, especially when she held a sniper rifle in her hands, or when in saboteur training. Most other times, however, she was still a youngling in mentality. The differences in behavior were eerie sometimes.

Now, though, she was every bit the youngling. _=What's it like?=_ she asked excitedly. Despite how much time had passed, she still had not gotten over the instinctive action to never make a sound. She had gotten a bit better at being alone and in crowds, though, however little much.

Blitz, the communications officer and a sort of uncle to her, laughed. "Not a clue, Sparks. Ain't never been. Last true world I was on was some rock in the middle of nowhere, tucked into the corner of obscurity. Heard stories about the place, but like I said, I've never even seen it before. None of us have. So, like the rest of us, you'll just have to wait until we get there."

Mute Spark pouted. _=All I've ever seen is dead rock and monochrome. We don't have the resources to decorate my room, and it just wouldn't be the same. Can you at least tell me what you've heard about the planet?=_

Blitz grinned. "Oh, fine. I hear it's got a lot of water. And living stuff."

_= . . . And . . .?=_

"And that's it," he finished regretfully. "Sorry, kid. You now know about as much as I do. Look, it'll only be an orn or two, and then we'll be there. Just relax. Dance. Draw, paint. Go train with Blade or help Flare. Captain's busy, but find a logic puzzle you could do. Find _something _to keep you occupied, 'cause my shift's about to start. Maybe Livewire will let you play with chemicals."

_=He's in the middle of an experiment. No one's to bother him. I guess I could go play a prank on someone . . .=_

The royal blue mech flapped his hand at her. "By all means. Hey, you know what? I just thought of something . . ."

_=What?=_

Blitz's grin was bordering on evil now. "You're going to have a lot of new victims, soon."

At that realization, a look dawned on Mute Spark's face that was so mischievous, it pull all past smirks to shame.

**...**

She had become so agitated, her panels were ruffling. Even a breem felt like eternity at the moment, eager as she was to arrive. Yes, the _Celestial_ was her home, but that was all she had seen for more than three hundred orns. Not once had she left the ship, due to her vulnerability and the danger present at each of their stops. Nowhere, it seemed, was truly safe. And as young and unarmored as she was, they weren't taking any chances.

But now she could _go_ places . . .

"Hey, Spark! Wanna come with me to the bow observation room? We're approaching the solar system."

Up like a shot, Mute Spark quickly followed Livewire through the corridors, the engineer having finally left his lab. Only a few more joors to go! Finally, _finally_!

Sol, the system's star, was a dim globe of yellow as they approached. Gradually, it grew brighter, and by the time they had passed a small rock Livewire said was named Pluto, Flareup and Shadowblade had joined the two.

They powered past Neptune, a swirled blue gas planet with four minuscule rings. Soon Uranus in its unique rotation was behind them, followed by the brilliant rings of Saturn. Soon the behemoth of Jupiter was before them, complete with its numerous moons and faint rings. The asteroid belt reared its bulk, and they slipped on through.

They passed Mars not long after, another dead rock in Mute Spark's mind. It was a different color, though, and it did have ice caps. Her companions laughed as she made a face in return to the one being made at her by the hills.

And then she saw it, a glowing blue speck against the darkness as the ship approached in a way so that they weren't facing head-on into the sun. A silver speck orbited the third planet, its solitary moon. As they got closer, she picked up on the mechanical satellites, and jerked her head around to face Livewire.

Livewire grinned. "The humans are very industrious for a race so young. We have a few of our own up, but they have a lot. We're going to have to be careful when we come in for the landing."

Mute Spark nodded in comprehension, adopting a look of understanding. Though smaller than the _Ark_, the _Celestial_ was still much larger than the humans' spaceships. Would there be a hole big enough in the satellite net for them to slip through?

The ship lumbered closer to the moon, and alarms started flashing. They were sedate ones, however, and announced, "YELLOW ALERT. REPORT TO STATIONS. REPEAT: YELLOW ALERT. REPORT TO STATIONS."

Shadowblade smiled down at her. "Take some pictures for us, huh? I'll see you in a bit, little one."

Mute Spark leaned against his hand as he rubbed her helm and nodded. She understood the caution. Decepticons were also present on this world, and an attack on the incoming ship was not unlikely. Flareup also had to leave, just in case the Med Bay was needed, and she copied her bonded's affectionate action. "Keep her safe, Livewire," she instructed. "If we are attacked, get her to the safe room in the Med Bay. Worst case, get her to an emergency shuttle and take her to the _Ark_. We'll meet up with you there."

Mute Spark stiffened at the talk, and cast a worried look at her guardians. Seeing it, Shadowblade smiled. "Don't you worry," he assured her. "We'll all make it through. Just enjoy the view, and catch up on the culture. We should be in range by now."

The young femme shook her head. _=I'm going to wait until I see the surface with my own optics before I do. Be safe?=_

They nodded. "We will," the bonded pair promised, and Flareup patted her daughter on the head. "Have fun!"

Mute Spark waved, and they were gone.

As it turned out, they did make it safely, and she was able to watch as they entered the atmosphere, the flames gathering on the heat shields. Primus, this planet was beautiful. It was so . . . _green_, and blue, and white . . .

It was so _alive_.

**...**

They touched down near the _Ark_ as a small contingent was gathering, headed up by a large red and blue mech. She waved excitedly at them from the viewport, and those that noticed waved back. Soon, everyone else had seen the two minuscule figures behind the window, and several joined in the waving.

One of the first to see them was a white, black, and blue mech with a large number on his chest and a blue visor covering his optics. He tossed his hand up and then elbowed a white, red, and green mech with flashing projections on his helm, who was fiddling with something. His concentration broken, the trinket exploded.

Mute Spark jerked back in shock, panels flaring in alarm, and Livewire choked on laughter. "That must be Wheeljack," he surmised, although the femme didn't get the reference. Still, she smoothed her panels, and was glad she hadn't been by the window when they popped up. She was probably indistinct, but she still wanted to save them for a surprise.

Several bots were collapsed on the ground in laughter, while others looked on exasperatedly. The supposed Wheeljack just stared down at his hands, face blackened by smoke, and the mech who had elbowed him clapped him on the shoulder, shaking with laughter. Her medical instincts kicked in, and she suddenly wanted to get down there quickly, to make sure the unfortunate victim was okay.

Livewire steered her out of the observation room as the flashing lights faded, no longer needed as the ship stood down from Yellow Alert. Flareup and Shadowblade met up with them in the egress bay, and they were soon joined by Captain Recount and the rest of the crew. Her medical coding still in effect, Mute Spark hardly noticed.

Flareup frowned at this. "What happened?" she demanded from Livewire, concerned.

The yellow-bodied engineer shrugged, looking highly amused. "One of the Autobots outside was tinkering with something, and it exploded in his hands."

The chief medic immediately stiffened, her coding also kicking into high gear. It was like the hatch couldn't open fast enough.

Shadowblade laughed. "Here we go," he told the scientist, smirking.

**...**

If Jazz were a human, he wouldn't be able to breath, seeing as he was laughing so hard. Poor Wheeljack looked utterly flummoxed by the spontaneous event, and while many were laughing with Jazz, a few looked heavenward and sighed, or shuttered their optics and pinched the bridges of their nasal ridges. It was not the first time this had happened, and it was sure not to be the last, unless Ratchet finally carried out his threat to turn the mech into a microwave. Even then there might be trouble.

Optimus Prime gave Wheeljack a worried look. "Do you need medical assistance?"

"Huh?" The bewildered engineer looked up, blinked, then back down at his smoky hands. "Oh . . . I'm good. It can wait."

Had he not had a mask, the Prime would have been frowning. As it was, his optics carried the expression quite well. "If you're sure."

"Oh, yes!" Wheeljack gave a nervous sort of laugh. "Sorry, sir. Oh, um, they're coming out, now."

Jazz calmed his laughter as Optimus studied the inventor for a moment longer before turning to the lowering ramp. A large green and blue mech came down to meet him, and stopped at the bottom. Saluting, he greeted them. "Recount, captain of the _Celestial_, reporting. May my crew disembark?"

Optimus saluted back. "They may, indeed, Captain. I am Optimus Prime. Welcome to Earth."

Recount grinned. "Thank you, sir. From what I can see so far, this place looks amazing. Humans are fortunate."

Jazz tuned out the rest of the conversation as he watched the Autobots emerging from the ship. It was a giant collage of colors, and he estimated that, in all, at least twenty-five mechs and femmes had arrived, with medics and soldiers and engineers. Communications officers, too, from the bridge, and tactical support.

Two flashes of white pressed to the edge of the crowd, and the third-in-command focused his optics on two femmes, each bearing the red cross typical of a medic. A tall, slender, gray mech followed them, accompanied by a large yellow one, and they were laughing at something. Their destination, he found, was Wheeljack, and he immediately caught on to the joke.

The smaller, almost completely white femme was the first to reach them, and gestured quickly to the surprised chief engineer. The taller one, her armor half white and half red, promptly stepped forward and grabbed Wheeljack's arms, holding them up for inspection.

The gray mech laughed. "That's medics for you," he told his yellow companion, who smirked and nodded. "Get their coding going, and you don't stand a chance."

The femme ignored him. "What exploded?" she asked Wheeljack.

Wheeljack's ear-fins flashed. "I was tinkering with an invention of mine while waiting. Jazz startled me, and it blew up."

Jazz grinned at that, then interjected himself into the conversation. "How'd you know something exploded?"

The femme jerked a thumb at the smaller white one and the yellow mech. "She and Livewire saw it happen. Well, it doesn't look too bad, but you will need some repair work done. I advise you to get it done as soon as possible."

Wheeljack nodded. "Thank you. Oh, man, Ratchet's going to kill me . . ."

The femme laughed. "He's really here? I've heard stories about that mech."

The tall, slender mech pouted. "Stop it. You're making me jealous."

Livewire snickered. "Might want to compliment your mech, now."

The red and white femme grinned. "I never said I was complimenting Ratchet. Although I have also heard he's the best medic alive. It will be an honor serving with him. Now, dear, you can stop trying to look so hurt. I can feel that amusement."

Jazz regarded the two curiously. "You two bonded?"

"We are." The femme held out a hand. "Flareup, chief medic of the _Celestial_. This is my sparkmate, Shadowblade, and our surrogate daughter, Mute Spark."

Jazz shook her hand and bowed over it. "Pleasure to meet you, Lady Flareup. What's your occupation, Shadowblade?"

He grinned. "Special Operations Unit."

"Yeah? No kiddin'. I'm Jazz, Prime's third-in-command and the leader of the SpecOps Unit here on Earth. Welcome aboard."

"Thank you, sir."

Jazz looked around, noting that the encounter had drawn curious onlookers, including a highly amused Recount and an interested Prime. Returning his attention to the group, it was quickly caught by the smaller femme, the one strangely named Mute Spark. She seemed to be shrinking in on herself a bit, her optics darting about.

"You okay, li'l lady?" he asked her, concerned. The femme looked at him and nodded shortly, a faint smile on her lips. She sent a quick look to her guardians, and Flareup's optics narrowed. "Blitz!" she called, and a royal blue mech edged through the crowd.

"Yeah, Flare?"

Flareup rubbed Mute Spark's head, which seemed to calm her a bit, and looked pointedly at the mech. "Can you take Spark to her quarters so that she can get her things?"

Blitz nodded, sending the younger femme a knowing smile. "Sure, thing. Hey, Sparks, how'd that prank of yours go?"

Mute Spark blinked, then her optics widened in what could only be horror. She whirled to face the ship, then drew back at a loud bellow from inside.

"_MUTE SPARK!_"

Flareup winced. "What in space did you do to get Charger that mad, honey?"

Oddly, the young femme didn't speak a word, but frantic gestures were made. The _Celestial_'s chief medic winced again, and Jazz quickly realized that Mute Spark was speaking on the comm instead, in a specific rather than general broadcast. Blitz made a shooing gesture, and grinned broadly. "Go on and hide, kid. I'll cover for ya."

She nodded once, then dashed toward a large tree at the edge of the circle. Soon, she was concealed quite nicely in the leafy branches, and then her energy signature just . . . disappeared.

Jazz blinked. Seriously? How in space did she do that? Even he couldn't mute his spark signal.

He turned to Shadowblade. "Guess her name is really appropriate, huh?"

The other saboteur also looked surprised. "We actually named her that because she doesn't ever talk out loud, or make any noise whatsoever. Personal choice, hard-driven survival instinct and habit. She's never actually demonstrated that before . . ."

Flareup smiled proudly. "I guess it's even more appropriate than we thought."

She didn't ever talk? That was interesting. Probably why she used the comm.

His thoughts were overridden as a large, dark blue-green mech stormed out of the ship, a gigantic splotch of neon pink staining his frame in a horrid rendition of a child painting a birdhouse by dumping the paint on top. Nearby, even the Lambo Twins recoiled, Sunstreaker looking absolutely horrified. "Holy Primus!" Sideswipe yelped.

Jazz clapped a hand over his mouth to hold back a laugh, but Blitz had no such reservations. "Ha-ha-ha!" he laughed, bending over double as he pointed at the stymied prank victim, whose rage wasn't improving at the communications officer's hysterical laughter. "She got you good!"

Charger hissed like a kettle about to blow. "_Where_._ Is_. _She_?"

"Heard ya bellow like a Zaluptian rhino-dog, and took off racin'. She don't have wheels yet, so she can't very well kick up a dust cloud, ya know."

The half-pink mech snarled. "She had better hope this paint comes off quickly."

Shadowblade stepped between the two, a scowl fixed onto his faceplates. "Why don't you leave the discipline of Mute Spark to Flareup and I, her guardians? As our surrogate daughter, she is our responsibility."

Charger glared. "You had to go and teach her your techniques, didn't you? Now we can't ever catch her, and she has a whole planet to run around on now."

Flareup bristled. "She was excellent at stealth, anyway, and she knows very well not to go off somewhere without an escort."

Now Blitz joined in. "Yeah, and I don't see why you're so mad, anyhow. It's not even paint."

That gave everyone pause.

" . . . It's not . . .?"

Blitz rolled his optics and reached up to grasp something on the back of Charger's helm. Charger hissed at his proximity, but Blitz ignored him and pulled the object free. As he did, the pink disappeared, leaving the spotless shine of his blue-green paint job. Blitz tossed the object up and caught it, then tucked it away into subspace. "See? Holographic projector, making simple water look like paint of any choice of color. Sparks invented it just before we got the call to come here, and decided to put it to use in a prank. It was _supposed_ to be triggered joors ago."

Wheeljack perked up at that. "She invented it? Really?"

"Uh-yup. Jack-of-most-trades, our girl. Now, then, Charger. Why don't you just scurry along, let Flare and Blade deal with the kid? That's it, move along. Allow the kid some mercy in her boredom. Bye, now!" Blitz waved cheerily as the grumbling mech stomped away, the crowd parting to let him pass through. Jazz blinked to see a white form disappearing over the top of the ship's ramp, and cast a confused look at the tree. Hadn't Mute Spark been there? Surely they would have noticed if she'd moved.

As soon as Charger was inside the _Ark_, Recount himself went to the giant tree. Peering up into the branches, he snorted. "Figures," the captain muttered. "Sneaky little youngling-wannabe."

Blitz beamed at his commander. "Well, she wouldn't be Mute Spark if she wasn't. Here, Wires, pass this along for me, will ya?" He tossed the small device to the _Celestial_'s scientist, then gave a two-fingered salute as he walked off in Charger's path. "Don't look at it, remember!" he called back as he left.

Livewire tucked the device into subspace and looked at Wheeljack. "Would you care to see my lab?" he asked.

The fellow engineer nodded happily. "Of course!"

"Livewire," Flareup interrupted, sounding a little stern. "Remember to keep her safe. Shadowblade and I will be along to join you in a while, but until then, she's in your charge."

Livewire nodded. "Yes, ma'am. Prime, sir. Captain. Come along, Wheeljack, sir."

Jazz crossed his arms and stared in amazement at the tree as the scientists left for the ship. "Didn't even notice her headin' for the _Celestial_. That's one stealthy femme."

Flareup smiled proudly, and a little sadly. Her answer was cryptic, and left Jazz wanting to know more.

"She's had to be."

* * *

Vorn = 83 years  
Orn = 13 days  
Joor = 6.5 hours  
Breem = 8.3 minutes

_Images of Mute Spark are on my deviantART account._


	4. The Beginning: Part 4

Thank you for the review, **LionLover190**! ^_^

* * *

_**Part Four**_

It took a lot of willpower to not look at Mute Spark's specialized hologram emitter. Making water look like paint! It was actually rather ingenious, although he couldn't see much purpose besides prank applications. Could it make water look like a solid surface? Or maybe, after making a large puddle of water, they could make it look like toxic material, or make it look like something entirely different. Would it have any practical use? That, Livewire figured, was a question to ask the femme.

Finally, they arrived at their destination, and Livewire ushered Wheeljack inside. The chief engineer of the _Ark_ looked around, giving the appearance of a frown. "This isn't a lab."

"No," Livewire confirmed, "it's the Med Bay. I figured we should get your hands fixed up before looking through my goodies. Hey, Spark! You in here?"

Off to the side, the safe room door swished open, and a white head peeked out. _=Yes,=_ came the answer.

Livewire smiled. "Come on out, it's just us. Spark, this is Wheeljack. Wheeljack, this is Mute Spark. You met outside, but only briefly."

Wheeljack nodded. "Pleased to meet you."

The femme offered him a smile as she came out of her sanctuary, then she focused in on the inventor's hands. Regarding them carefully, she then turned away and breezed through the Bay, grabbing several tools before coming back to the engineers. She gestured to a berth, and Wheeljack obediently sat down.

Mute Spark worked quickly, replacing a few damaged wires, welding the holes shut, and soon Wheeljack's hands were looking like new, complete with a fresh coat of quick-drying paint and sealant. As she put everything away, the inventor studied his repaired appendages and his vocal indicators flashed happily. "Thank you very much, Mute Spark. I owe you for this. Say, would you like to join Livewire and I in looking at his lab?"

The femme perked up and nodded vigorously as she put the last tool away. Livewire held out her invention, and she snatched it up quickly. Holding it up for inspection, she beamed at them. _=And would you like to know how this works?=_

Needless to say, the two engineers were like kids in a toy store. Together, they chorused, "Would we!"

**...**

Recount led Optimus into his office aboard the _Celestial_ and sighed. "You want to know about Mute Spark."

"If you don't mind, or if you don't think she would mind. She is . . ."

"Strange?" Recount supplied with a knowing smile. "Yes. She is."

"Why did you call her a 'wannabe-youngling'?"

Recount considered his next words, then sighed again as he gave up. This was Prime; he should know about her. She was an Autobot, after all, and under his command. No, not "should." The word was "need." Prime _needed_ to know about Mute Spark.

"It all started a little over three hundred thirty orns ago. At least, the part where we're involved."

"Eleven years? She hasn't been with you long."

Recount shrugged. "Long enough. It's slow going for her, though."

"What do you mean?"

The captain frowned. "Have you ever heard of Gamma Base outpost?"

"Yes. A research outpost consisting of neutral scientists. Are you . . .?"

"That's exactly what I'm implying." Recount sat heavily in the chair behind his desk and accessed the ship's computer, looking for pictures of the young femme. "We detected Decepticon transmissions from the outpost and went to investigate. There were five of the slaggers there, and my Special Ops unit took care of them and conducted the initial search for salvageable supplies. It was Shadowblade who found her in the remains of the laboratory on the moon, and he brought her back here." An image was displayed on the screen, and Recount turned it so that Optimus could see. It was of a black youngling with yellow optics, beaming up at two very familiar Autobots.

"He and Flareup took her in as their surrogate daughter. It's not an official adoption, yet, just in the off chance that her actual creators are still alive. It is very doubtful, though. I can't imagine anyone would abandon their youngling."

"Can't she tell you?"

Recount shook his head in sadness. "No. She has nightmares of the attack, sometimes, but other than that, her first memory is of waking up alone in the ruins of the lab. She had to hide from Decepticons and steal smidgens of energon to stay alive, and became quite good at sneaking around. She was dangerously low on energy when Shadowblade found her."

"And her speaking habits?"

"Or lack thereof?" Recount asked wryly. "She only ever talks on the comm. We figure it was hammered quite nicely into her CPU that she couldn't make a sound, or she would die. We've been trying to help her get out of that mindset, but like I said, it's slow going for her. It helped her tremendously to be transferred into her third frame, but oftentimes, she's a youngling with an adult's spark and body. She lost one million, two hundred years worth of memory in the attack. It's such a joy to be able to see her enjoy life, but my spark aches sometimes when I see what an effect that time alone on the moon had on her, hiding from the Cons. She hates being alone, and she hates crowds. And on the opposite side of the spectrum, she can become so focused. It's . . . frightening, at times. Present her with an injury, and she'll forget everything that makes her uncomfortable save for making noise. Same goes for when training. I don't know if she realizes that it happens."

Optimus was silent for a long moment. Then he asked, "Is there anything we can do to help?"

**...**

"Hmm." Flareup considered the question, her arm placed in Shadowblade's as they followed Jazz through the _Ark_. "Don't treat her as if she's going to fall apart. Be honest with her. Don't let her be alone or in crowds for too long, get her out of there if she starts to panic. Call us when she does, or Blitz, Recount, Swiftcast, or Livewire. Backdraft, Punisher, Swift, Overcast, and Stopper are all right, too. She knows us the best. Listen to what she has to say, and don't underestimate her. And most of all, don't let her leave the base alone. She is vulnerable, and she only has light armor right now. We were going to look into giving her an upgrade here on Earth, but even so. She's not a warrior, and never will be. Saboteur, maybe, but we'd appreciate it if she was kept out of danger."

Jazz smiled bitterly. "I'll do my best, but there may come a time when she is needed. We'll evaluate her skills, and I don't think you'll have to worry about her being placed on the warrior or security squads, seeing as she isn't suited for the positions. Don't you worry, Lady Doc, we'll keep her away from the front lines. Here's the Med Bay. Ya might wanna tell Ratchet that Jack's getting' fixed up, so he doesn't have to worry. Come on, Shadowblade, let's show ya around so you two can get back to your girl."

Shadowblade nodded, then gave his bonded a light peck on the lips. "I'll see you later."

"Mmhmm. Make sure Backdraft doesn't get too fresh with his superiors."

The tall mech grinned. "Aw, don't worry. I'll keep him in line. Good luck with Ratchet."

"Yeah, yeah . . . Now beat it!"

Shadowblade grinned and waved as he started off down the corridor again with Jazz. "Medics," he sighed. "Gotta love 'em."

**...**

Mute Spark sat perched on the front edge of Livewire's large chair in his lab, swinging her legs back and forth. The two engineers were moving systematically through the lab, pausing a bit longer on some things, and were jabbering quickly in the language of scientists. She understood it well, being a bit of a scientist herself, and recognized the object, so she knew when Wheeljack was approaching something a little more volatile than the others.

Her turquoise optics narrowed to thin slits and she flared her crown just the slightest bit. _=Do not touch that, please. I will not repair your hands again.=_

Wheeljack had the grace to look embarrassed, and his vocal indicators flashed pink. "Sorry. I am a walking hazard, aren't I?"

She smiled at that, slightly amused, and folded her fan blades back into their original position before the engineer could take notice. _=I suppose so. I will not be going anywhere near you when you're holding something, you know. I take my own risks.=_

Livewire laughed. "Yeah, like making Charger think you had dumped paint on him."

She shrugged. _=He had it coming. He made fun of me, you know.=_

The engineer could only offer a smirk. "You two never did get along very well. Ah, Recount, Optimus Prime. Welcome to my lab." Livewire gave a flourishing bow, a grin fixed on his lips. "To what do I owe the honor?"

Recount jerked a thumb at the Prime. "I'm giving him a tour. Ah, Mute Spark. How are Wheeljack's hands, now?"

Mute Spark beamed at him, giving the captain a thumbs-up. _=As long as he doesn't blow something up in here, he should be good.=_

The blue and green mech grinned. "You sure you should be sitting so close to him?"

_=No. But we told him not to touch anything.=_

"With Jack," a familiar voice came from the corridor, "he doesn't even really have to touch it."

Wheeljack rolled his optics. "Hello, Jazz. Ah, Shadowblade and Flareup I presume? Er . . . Hi, Ratchet."

The CMO stormed wordlessly over to the inventor and grasped a forearm with one red hand. Studying the repairs carefully, he moved on to the other hand and gave a satisfied grunt. "Good work, kid," he told Mute Spark, stepping away from the poor, abused scientist. Wheeljack wondered if every medic in the universe lived by the unwritten code to poke and prod injuries to assess the damage. Thankfully, his hands were fine this time around.

Mute Spark smiled up at her guardians as they came over to flank her, unconsciously protective. Shadowblade stood a little further forward, just in case something did happen to explode. _=Thank you, sir. Flareup has taught me a lot.=_

Ratchet grunted. "She's your femme guardian?"

_=Yes, sir.=_

"Hmph. And when are you going to be starting?"

Mute Spark blinked. She actually hadn't thought about that, so she looked to Flareup.

Flareup frowned in thought. "I was actually hoping that she would be allowed to wait a little bit, to adjust to the place. Is this permissible, sirs?"

Ratchet nodded. "Fine with me. Prime?"

Optimus considered the young femme in question. "If the idea is agreeable with Mute Spark."

Mute Spark nodded vigorously. Right now, all she wanted to do was explore this new world. She hadn't been able to look at it yet, and it was so alive! Her sensors picked up on billions of tiny life forms in the ground, and that was just what these humans called "insects"! Who knew what else she would find just in the immediate area around the base?

Shadowblade chuckled. "I know that look. It's the scientist one. Come on, Flareup, let's show Spark that tree so she can really look at it."

Excited, Mute Spark jumped off the chair and landed nimbly on the deck. She ran past Optimus and Recount, hand tossed up in a wave. _=Bye, Livewire and Wheeljack!=_

Her mech guardian yelped, startled by her sudden departure. Mute Spark's laughter echoed on the comm as he ran after her, shouting.

"Hey, no cheating!"

* * *

Vorn = 83 years  
Orn = 13 days  
Joor = 6.5 hours  
Breem = 8.3 minutes

_Images of Mute Spark are on my deviantART account._


	5. The Beginning: Part 5

Again, thanks for the review, **LionLover190**! ^_^

* * *

_**Part Five**_

"I think she likes it here."

"Are you kidding? She hasn't stopped staring at that tree for three breems. In her normal frame of mind, she usually doesn't even keep her attention on something for two."

"And plus, this is all new to her, so her going into scientist mode isn't all that surprising."

" . . . Scientist mode?"

"Sorry, Jazz, sir, I forgot. You're not familiar with our girl. Hey, Flareup, do you remember the first time Mute Spark was in the lab?"

"Oh, yes! She stared at everything for about this long before saying anything."

"You remember what we told you about how she gets so focused, sir?"

"Enough with this 'sir' business, already! And yeah, I do. This what you were talkin' about?"

"Yup."

Mute Spark let her lips twitch into a smile as she stared up into the branches. Despite what her guardians may have thought, she was quite aware of their conversation with the third-in-command, and she was rather amused by it. There was also this warm feeling in her spark when she heard the joy in their voices. They were happy for her, she could tell, and that made her happy.

Finally, Mute Spark stepped forward and gave close inspection to the bark. This thing was . . . fascinating. When she placed her hand on the trunk, she could _feel_ the life in it.

The smile grew, and she stepped back to grab the thick, low branches like she had earlier, swiftly hauling herself up. Before, she had been too panicked to pay much attention to the wonder around her, and now she took great care in observing everything. Sunlight filtered green through the thick crown, casting the tinted glow upon her white armor. She spent a moment just looking at the shifting colors on her arm, then plucked a leaf to look at more closely, staring at the miniscule veins.

"I'll never understand how you guys can climb this tree."

Mute Spark glanced down in surprise at the small voice, having never heard one quite like that before. It lacked any metallic timbre, instead sounding . . . She wasn't sure what, exactly. When she spied the source, however, her curiosity was piqued.

Below, Jazz smiled at the small organic. "It's real sturdy. And I'm pretty sure I couldn't, but lighter mechs and femmes can, like Mute Spark here. Hey, Sparks! Come on down, I want ya to meet someone."

Mute Spark obliged, inordinately pleased that he had adopted Blitz's nickname for her. The small organic blinked up at her, and she knelt out of courtesy to its neck. She didn't figure it felt very good to look up like that for very long with the way its – his – body was made. Quick research had revealed this to be a male of the dominant species on this planet, humans.

The human waved hesitantly at her. "Erm . . . Hi? I'm Spike, Spike Witwicky. Welcome to Earth."

Mute Spark beamed at him, flattered. It was nice to be welcomed, she decided as she held out a single gray, metal digit.

Spike grasped it and shook her hand, obviously used to this. "So you're Mute Spark?"

She nodded, able to quickly tell that he had already guessed the reason for her silence. With a name like hers, who couldn't?

Spike smiled, then looked at the two other Autobots standing nearby. Taking the hint, Shadowblade knelt and followed his daughter's example. "I'm Shadowblade, one of the new SpecOps. This is my sparkmate, Flareup, a medic, and Mute Spark, here, is our surrogate daughter. She'll be joining the medical ranks after getting used to the place."

"It's great to meet you, Shadowblade, sir. And you, Flareup. I hope you are able to enjoy your time here on Earth. Hey, Jazz, have you seen Carly?"

"I think I saw her with Bumblebee a little bit ago. They were in the rec room."

"Thanks. So, I guess I'll see you guys around. It was really nice to meet you."

"And you, Spike."

Mute Spark waved and got one in return, then pulled herself back up into the tree. Several minutes later, Jazz tapped her foot to get her attention.

"Did you want to look for an altmode, yet?"

She shook her head, giving a smile in return. _=I think I'll wait a while on that, if it's okay.=_

"Sure thing, Sparks. Just let someone know when you do, and we'll help you find one. Wanna head inside? I can give you the grand tour."

Mute Spark shrugged, hopping down to join him and her guardians. She really wanted to stay out here longer, where everything was alive, but she supposed a tour couldn't hurt. She could always come back outside.

Jazz grinned, correctly interpreting her mood. "Don't worry, li'l lady, I'll show you guys one of the roads around here afterwards. I think you'll like the lake. Come on, let's get this party started."

The _Ark_ was much, much bigger than the _Celestial_, it was readily apparent, with more than enough room for the new Autobots and more. It took about one Earth hour to be shown all the areas of the buried ship, and it was towards the end when Mute Spark saw them.

Younglings.

Several of them, in fact. A few were clearly fliers, and nearly all had yellow, green, or the classic blue Autobot optics. One had dual-colored optics, one red and one blue. And _all_ of them, regardless of appearance or gender, were gathered around a large monitor with four mech younglings racing each other in a video game.

Jazz grinned. "Yup. We got younglings. Sparklings, too, but it's their nap time. You might be able to play with some, but a few of 'em don't like any adults hanging around that often. Too boring, they think."

Mute Spark smirked. _=Too boring? Obviously they haven't met you.=_

He laughed. "Why, thank you. Anyway, you haven't been an adult for very long, so they might like you better. Come on, let's go. Still need to show you the training room."

The white femme followed along, but sent a glance back at the younglings. Oh, yes, she would definitely be visiting later.

A third of a joor later found the four Autobots on a dirt road deep in the mountains. Mute Spark was having the time of her life as she deliberately plowed through a mud puddle, her laughter flooding the comm. Shadowblade, having gotten caught in the splatter, did his best to shake the goop off as he drove. While Mute Spark had retained her Cybertronian hover-car mode, he had scanned a silver McLaren F1, an altogether impractical car for the road they were on. But so was Jazz's Porche 911, and Flareup's red and white Ferrari Modena. Shadowblade could only imagine what it would be like for Prime to attempt these roads.

The view, when they arrived at the quaint little valley, was every bit as breathtaking as Jazz had promised. Trees fenced it in, providing a comfortable little corner of the world where troubles could be forgotten, if only for a short time. A winding river led into a quiet lake, the other end allowing excess water to empty out in a series of gentle rapids and waterfalls.

Mute Spark was quick to jump into the lake, knowing full well that the water wouldn't hurt a bit, and feeling a pressing need to clean up. Soon her white armor was shining once again, as was Shadowblade's silver after a quick wash. Flareup laughed at him, amused. "You know she's just going to get you again on the way back."

"Yes, but still." He grinned at his sparkmate, then splashed her a little, getting a squealing laugh in return.

Jazz got a good chuckle from the sight. "Don't kill each other, now. We need you all."

"Yeah, yeah . . . Whoa!" Shadowblade let out that last bit as Flareup grabbed his hand and pulled him down to sit next to her, and relaxed as she cuddled up in his arms. Their gaze then went to Mute Spark, who had wandered closer to the middle of the deep lake, as fascinated by the fish as she had been with the tree.

The SpecOps commander's voice was full of warmth as he spoke, reflecting the light in his visor. "I don't know much about that girl of yours, Blade. But what I do know is that she is a little messed up with all the bad things that have happened to her. And I also know that she's seen too many dead rocks. I think she'll do good in this place."

Flareup smiled. "I agree. I still hold out hope that she'll speak someday. Oh, Primus, I wish I knew what she's gone through. But I think . . ."

Shadowblade held her closer as Flareup finished the thought, watching as his daughter turned to study the bird that had landed on her shoulder. She looked so alive, right then, so much more than she ever had before. And so, he found himself heartily agreeing with Flareup's words.

". . . I think she's going to be just fine."

* * *

**Thus concludes _Mute Spark: The Beginning_**

**Continued in _Shadow of Doubt, Hope for The Future

* * *

_**

Vorn = 83 years  
Orn = 13 days  
Joor = 6.5 hours  
Breem = 8.3 minutes

_Images of Mute Spark are on my deviantART account._


	6. Shadow of Doubt, Hope for The Future

Thanks for the review, **Midnight Marqui****s**! Here's the next part, y'all. :-)

* * *

**Shadow of Doubt, Hope for the Future**

By Falcon's Hyperdrive

A.k.a. Fuzzy Slipper

Begun 4-13-10

Finished 5-6-10_**

* * *

**_

"No, no, no, no! Left, idiot, organic-built car, you two-bit piece of programming, turn left! Gah!"

"I think you're supposed to go forward."

"Oh, shut it, Volt. There was a wall in the way!"

"You could've reversed."

"I _tried_ that!"

"Just saying. You know, you steer like a buffoon."

"Yeah, well, your- your- your face!"

". . . Right."

"Hey, don't diss!"

"You started it, Scooter. And seriously?"

"Well, I wasn't about to go with those human 'your mother' jokes."

". . ."

"Hey, I said I _wasn't_!"

Dash sighed as he lowered his datapad. Well, it wasn't like he was trying to _read_ anything . . .

Thankfully, his twin quickly settled down after a sharp nudge at their bond. Volt followed suit, having been about to bean his friend over the head with one of the super-sized pillows.

Scooter, a green and silver mech youngling with a translucent green visor over his blue optics, plopped back with a loud puff of air through his vents. "I'm booored . . ." he complained.

Volt, a copper and white jet with orange-yellow optics, tossed the durable Autobot-sized controller onto the sort of coffee table set between the couch and the monitor. "You're right. This is getting boring."

Dash, black and green with the same color visor as his brother, uncaringly went back to his book. It was him, this time, who received the sharp nudge over the bond, and he looked up again and scowled. "What?"

"I'm _bored_," Scooter reiterated.

"So what do you want me to do about it?"

"Think of something!"

Dash stared blankly at his twin for a long moment, then smirked as he held up his datapad. "Read a book."

"Oh, you're no help at all!"

Unperturbed, Dash just rolled his optics.

**...**

It had been about only one orn since arriving on the planet. Mute Spark stuck around Autobots she knew well as much as she could, but there were times, like now, that an off-duty femme couldn't be with them. And so, she was bored, and worse: alone.

Now, this was by no means as bad at it had been initially after being rescued, but even so, she didn't like it at all. Part of the problem lay in that when she was alone, she would start to see brief flashes of her past. Some of it was good, but then she would see the red optics, the explosions, the bodies . . .

These images, naturally, were something no one in their right mind would want to see. It made her want to hide in the corner, while at the same time finding the nearest group of Autobots.

She was such a strange one.

There was no point in denying that fact. She knew she was an oddity, because of her dual personality. Her childish behavior, the reversion back to a youngling, and on the opposite spectrum, the complete focus that scared those who knew her well and saw it. Adult though she was, now, she was still young, and there was no reason anyone at her age should have to be so serious. At least, that was the thinking of others. Privately, she had no idea what to think about it. And that, in her mind, made her all the more strange.

It didn't take long for her to hurry out of a deserted side corridor and rejoin the main route from crew quarters to the rec room. There, she was suddenly struck by her paradoxical fear of crowds. She had to find somewhere with a small group before she panicked, and she knew the rec room would not offer that. So instead, she took off down another side corridor and found herself moving toward the area where the younglings tended to hang out.

She hadn't ever really gotten a chance to meet them after her tour. A lot of her time that orn was spent outdoors, especially at the tree. She couldn't go to the lake without an escort, and other Bots were busy with other things most of the time, so she contented herself with the leafy refuge.

It was then that she heard the voices.

There were three younglings, she figured by the sound of the low-key arguing. One was calm, sedate, another rambunctious, and the last somewhere in the middle, but very blunt in his way of speaking. Poking her head into the self-dubbed youngling lounge, she fought back a smile at the sight before her.

A green and black mech had both arms outstretched, one holding a similarly built youngling back while the other held a datapad out of reach. The other was silver and green, the green inverted on him, with a clear green visor over his blue optics. The black and green youngling had one, too, and that made her wonder if these were twins, though that wouldn't always be the case.

A copper and white jet watched this all with an extremely bored look on his face, as if wondering if his friend could get any more immature. As his orangish-colored optics caught sight of her, however, he blinked, sat straight, and narrowed his optics with a small frown.

Mute Spark hardly noticed, however, as she leaned against the door frame, letting her internal laughter free. Since she wasn't broadcasting, it wasn't like anyone could hear her, anyway.

The scuffle stopped abruptly as the twins also noticed her presence, and the silver and green mech made a face. "That's really eerie, you know. Why aren't you making any sound?"

The jet whacked him on the helm. "Dumbaft. That's the one who doesn't talk."

The first youngling's optics widened comically. "Seriously?"

Mute Spark calmed herself, still highly amused and unable to feel offended, well used to the reaction by now. _=Only out loud,=_ she answered, laughter still evident in her tone. _=My comm works just fine, otherwise.=_

"Oh." He made a face again. "That's weird."

Mute Spark just shrugged. _=I'm sorry if I interrupted something, though your brother doesn't seem to mind. Er . . . Could I . . . That is, do you mind if I join you?=_

It was his turn to shrug. "Guess not. I'm Scooter, that's Dash, and this is Volt. Hey, you're one of the newbies! What's your name?"

The femme offered a small smile. _=Mute Spark.=_

Volt snorted. "Name's just as weird as you are."

"Volt!"

"What?" he responded bluntly. "She's an adult. Adults are _boring_."

Mute Spark gave a shrug once more. _=I'm hardly out of youngling stage, if you must know. Didn't you hear about Charger?=_

"Wait, that was _you_?" Scooter grinned excitedly. "Sunstreaker and Sideswipe – two of the only non-boring adults – were talking about that the other day. Said the newcomer was _furious_, and that the prank was worth attempting to recreate somehow."

"It would definitely keep them from having to clean up paint puddles," Dash offered optimistically.

Mute Spark shook her head. _=Well, if they ever attempt to get the plans for it, they can think twice. I'm not giving it away, and Wheeljack and Livewire are under sworn oath to not reveal them. Besides, I left out a few secret components in my explanation.=_

It was then that Volt noticed the red crosses on the white armored femme. "You're a medic?"

_=Yes. I'm off-duty for a while, though, so I don't have much to do.=_

Scooter's expression turned absolutely mischievous at that, causing her to take a small step back from where she had come to stand. _=What?=_ she asked warily.

"Oh, nothing." His tone implied anything but. "I just got an idea of how to cure our boredom."

"I wasn't bored," Dash countered.

"No, but you're being _boring_. Come on, the more the merrier, right?"

Mute Spark knew that look. It was a magnified version of how she got at times, set in a face that it suited much more. Her turquoise optics narrowed to thin slits, she eased herself down into one of the chairs. _=Why do I get the feeling I'm going to regret this?=_

"No idea. So, Volt?"

The jet smirked. "Have at it. I'll tell you afterwards if it's good or not."

"Okay . . . So, Prowl gave us those special-made water pistols, right?"

By now, Dash looked just as uneasy as she felt. "Yes," he answered.

"And Volt, you know where to get paint, right?"

Volt's smirk grew. "Naturally. The Med Bay."

"Right. So, I was thinking, let's turn turn the _Ark_ into our own personal, giant shooting range!"

Mute Spark reared back in shock, alarmed at the concept. Flashes of a forgotten battle danced before her optics, but she shoved them aside and focused on the present. Her prankster side approved of the idea, but she knew that if they were caught, they were as good as dead. This was not a good way to engender trust among her new crew mates.

Ignoring the looks on Mute Spark's and Dash's faces, Volt grinned. "I like it. And to upgrade the energon, why don't we use a point system? One point for every shot we get on each other, two points for the minibots on base, three points for every other mech. Five points if you manage to get Sunny or Tracks, and seven if you get an officer. But you can't get caught, or you're out."

Mute Spark shivered. _=Out, and dead.=_

"Oh, relax. You're the only one they'd get real mad at. We're younglings, so they'd understand. You, though, you're an adult. So yeah, you'd get in big trouble." Tact, it seemed, was not something that came naturally to Volt. "So, what, you gonna do it? Don't tell me you're a scaredy-cat, as humans say. Chick-en~!"

Mute Spark scowled, optics narrowing as her panels ruffled in her agitation. They made no clicking sound, every bit as silent as she was. _=If I do this, I get red. The resulting stain is terrible to try and get off.=_

Scooter snickered, exchanging a high-five with the jet. "Ooh, I like you. I'll take green."

"Blue," Volt chipped in.

Dash was silent, and all optics turned to him. He scowled, a little put out by this. "Do I have to?"

_=No,=_ Mute Spark answered, even as Volt and Scooter answered with a resounding "yes."

The black and green mech made a face. "Which to listen to, the two voices outside of my head or the one voice inside? Fine. But if I get caught, Scooter, I'm claiming you set me up."

Volt snorted. "Plead the fifth if you must. Just don't pin the blame on me. Now, what color? Pick, or I'll choose for you. I'm sure Ratchet has some pink lying around. That'll make Bots _extra_ mad at you . . ."

"Not as mad as the red, though," Scooter snickered.

Dash scowled as he set his datapad to the side. "Fine. I'll take black."

"Right, then. I'll see you all again, soon. We'll meet back up here in a breem."

Scooter saluted, and the jet took off through the door. Mute Spark watched him go, a little worried. _=He'll be able to get the paint without being caught, right?=_

"Of course! His dad, Sparklight, taught him a few things. Sparklight's a medic, by the way, so you'll probably meet him at some point. Our parents are scouts, so we know what we're doing. Now, stay here and wait for us. Come on, Dash!"

"Hey, wait- Scooter!"

Mute Spark watched in amusement as Scooter dragged his brother out the door, obediently staying seated. Then, with a glance up, she realized just how she could make herself useful.

**...**

When the younglings rejoined her seven minutes later, they found Mute Spark just stepping away from the camera poised in the corner of the room. Looking up at it, Volt frowned. "What did you do?"

Mute Spark shrugged. _=Temporary feed-loop. Until I remotely disengage it, all it'll see is an empty lounge.=_ She grinned. _=Did I mention my mech guardian is in SpecOps?=_

Scooter blinked. "Wow. Nice. Guess it's good we let you join in, after all. Got the paint, Volt?"

"Sure do. Ratchet was busy, and so were everyone else, so I got it all unnoticed. Order up!"

Mute Spark took the can of paint shoved at her and the large water pistol and stared at them. _=How do we go about this?=_ she asked in confusion. _=I am unfamiliar with this sort of thing.=_

"Oh, just open that port, there. See? Yeah, that's it. Now just pour the paint in there, and it should hold everything." Scooter followed his own instructions, then grinned triumphantly. "Got it!"

Mute Spark carefully closed the lid of her empty paint can and mopped up drops with a spare rag she had. _=Clean up everything,=_ she instructed. _=We don't want to make this obvious to anyone watching after the camera cuts back in.=_

"I wonder if Red Alert's noticed the tampering, yet. Hokay, ready, everyone?"

Dash sealed his empty can. "Yes. Unfortunately."

"Don't be like that," the other twin chided in good humor. "Volt?"

The jet gave a positively evil grin. "Ready. You, femme?"

_=Mute Spark,=_ she corrected. _=And I suppose so.=_

Dash scowled down at his pistol. "I don't like this. We're gonna get in big trouble if we get caught."

"So don't get caught."

Mute Spark offered more helpful words of wisdom, rolling her optic's at Volt's blunt remark. _=The way I figure right now, it's better to have fun and get in trouble than to be alone.=_

The comment went unnoticed by Scooter and Volt as they shoved the paint cans into a storage closet, but Dash frowned up at her serious expression. "Why do I get the feeling that you know exactly what you're talking about?"

Mute Spark just smiled and hefted her pistol, which sat snugly in her hand with no trigger guard, accommodating the large fingers much more easily. Pretty soon, they were rejoined by the other two younglings.

Volt smirked. "Remember the rules. Everyone ready? Okay . . . Three . . . Two . . . One . . . GO!" Three quick squeezes of the trigger later, and the other younglings and youngling-like femme had big blue splatters in the center of their torsos. In response, Scooter yelped and chased after him, leaving the other two in his dust.

Mute Spark and Dash exchanged a long look. After a moment, Mute Spark held out a spare rag. _=Mop up the excess so you don't leave a trail like your brother is. I'll see you later, I suppose.=_

She dashed off before the youngling could reply.

**...**

A short time later, Mute Spark found herself in the air shafts, energy signal blanked out. Here was another oddity, she knew. While many could dampen their energy signatures, she could block hers out entirely, rendering her virtually invisible to anything but proximity sensors, which registered mass rather than energon or spark signals.

Shadowblade had commented to Jazz when they first met that she hadn't ever demonstrated this ability before the tree, but that wasn't true. He just hadn't noticed it on Gamma Base, where she had it on practically all the time. That was part of why she was so low on energy, since it required a small amount of power to operate. For _what_ to operate, though, she had no idea.

Mute Spark stilled herself, listening closely to her surroundings. There was a vent cover up ahead where she could snipe at unsuspecting mechs, and she figured this was as good a place as any.

A peek through the vent slats revealed a main corridor, this time the one leading from the crew quarters to the med bay. A white form flashed below, and she fought back any misgivings she had and fired.

The red paint hit dead on in a quick burst, the velocity offered by the specially-made pistols keeping it together as it travelled. The victim, who Mute Spark just realized had door wings and black on his paint job, along with a red chevron, jerked, craning his neck around to try and catch a glimpse of the spot.

Mechs burst into laughter, and Mute Spark's optics widened in horror, even as the victim's helm began smoking a little.

_Oh, Primus, I just got _Prowl_!_

She ducked back away from the vent, horrified. What had she just done? She had-

Seven points, that was what, her prankster side reminded her gleefully. She could only close her optics and groan internally.

Okay, so she had just painted Prowl with the worst-staining paint there was. It wasn't the end of the world – yet. If she was going to get in trouble, she might as well have fun with it.

So she found herself sneaking up to another vent, this one a good distance away from the other. She wasn't sure how many she could get with this method, but she knew it would cut down drastically her chances of getting caught.

This time, she did not hesitate when she saw a blue-green form below. Charger's bellow had barely even started by the time she was gone, scurrying silently to yet another vent.

**...**

Dash was rather confused about the strange femme. What kind of adult acted like a youngling, feared being alone more than getting in trouble, didn't talk out loud or make any noise whatsoever, and had such mixed feelings about this kind of game? All right, so the mixed feelings thing was normal, since he had them, too, but everything else . . . She was so quiet! The only way he had noticed her was by Volt's change in behavior. He hadn't even heard her approaching in the corridor, although he _had_ been a bit distracted. And then, just now, he had been tracking her energy signature, and lost her altogether. It wasn't like the dampening most bots did, which was still traceable if you had sensitive enough sensors, but more like it was completely gone. It was . . . eerie. His brother had even said as much in the lounge, though that was about her lack of speaking.

And then there was the tampering with the camera. That so completely belied her childish nature, and everything he had seen of her so far spoke of a dual personality. Not like Autobot and Decepticon, but more like youngling and adult. He could only imagine what she felt, with a foot in both worlds. She was not a youngling anymore, and yet acted like one a lot, and she was an adult, but didn't act like one a lot.

Confusing wasn't the right word, he decided as he slipped into an air shaft. No . . . Flummoxed. Yes, there was the word. She had him utterly flummoxed.

**...**

Mute Spark was moving through the air shafts again. By the time she had gotten four more mechs, her sniper training was telling her to call it quits. It was just a matter of time before she was discovered, and she was even moving around a lot.

So, in a burst of inspiration, she jury-rigged a remote firing assembly and moved further down the shaft. Two quick triggers later, and she had a red splatter on her back. She mopped it up as best as she could, but she knew a trip to the wash racks later and a fresh coat of paint would be in order. She hadn't been kidding when she said red paint was a nightmare to get off of white.

The firing rig was easily disassembled, no longer recognizable as anything of the sort as it was stowed in subspace. It was now random, generic parts easily mistaken to be for something else.

Her self-assigned task done, she dropped the pistol where she was and slipped out of an air vent in one of the side corridors a good distance away. She then dropped her energy blacking, for all the world looking like another unfortunate victim. Volt's blue spatter on her front was a little problematic, since it hinted that she had seen the perpetrator, but she was confidant that she could think of something to say that didn't implicate the three younglings. Of course, she was also counting on them to not get caught, which she was absolutely positive they could pull off.

But then, she had been wrong before . . .

**...**

It was quite an interesting day.

Dash found himself an hour later in one of the empty storage rooms, watching in bemusement as Volt and Scooter exchanged shots. He didn't figure they had very many points compared to him and the very strange femme, seeing as their part of the game had degenerated into a shooting match, a contest to see who could hit the other more times. Unexpectedly, he found that he had been _counting_ the hits, curious who would win before they tired of this and went on their ways.

And then the door slid open, and time itself seemed to stand still.

**...**

"Mute Spark! You- Oh, dear sweet Bugatti, you look awful! Oh, Primus, and it's the red paint on your back, too. Prowl was having a terrible time getting that off. I think he actually had to get it painted over. Come on, to the wash racks with you."

Disoriented, Mute Spark could only hurry along after Flareup as her hand was seized, the rest of her being pulled along with it. She did see, however, plenty of mechs and femmes with green, black, and blue paint on them, and a few of her red ones as they approached the wash racks.

Blitz came up from behind, startling them. "Hey, Sparks! Ouch, whoever it was got you good. Wait . . ." He frowned at her, and she stared back with wide, confused optics. "You have paint on your front," he stated, more serious than she usually saw him.

She nodded.

"So . . . you saw who did it?"

What could she answer to that? Foregoing words, she shrugged, a noncommittal reply.

"Huh." Blitz paused, then raised a hand to his audio receptors. "Wait . . . Yes, Prowl, sir. Um, yeah, I found a potential witness. She's not too sure, though . . . Well, she has a large blue splatter on her chassis. On the _front_ of it. Yes, sir. Well . . . I'll ask her. Yes, sir. Blitz out."

Flareup frowned. "What was that about?"

"Huh? Oh, one of the mechs found three younglings with water pistols containing three of the paint colors. They aren't saying anything, and no one can confirm it was them. Mind coming to the command room, Sparks? You're the only one who came close to seeing them, it seems, since they got you head-on."

_I can always say that, no, it wasn't them._ She shrugged again, frowning. It wasn't pleasant, lying to them like this, but . . . she couldn't just betray the younglings. She was the strong one, she had to take care of them, had to make sure the bad mech didn't hurt them . . .

She blinked, even as she felt herself being led away into another corridor. Where had that thought come from? She was with the _Autobots_, and the worst that would happen to the younglings would be a scolding and a grounding from their parents.

And yet, she couldn't shake the image of blue, green, orange, red, and yellow optics all huddled together, their owners shadowy, shaking forms as they looked to her for help, the one sparkling who could . . .

And so, as they entered the command room, she found herself staring blankly at the three younglings, even as Dash gave a peculiar frown.

Prowl, paint freshly dried, stepped forward. "Mute Spark. Are these the ones responsible for this impromptu target practice?"

Mute Spark forced herself to blink, to chase away the images. _=No,=_ she answered.

She caught the barest flicker of surprise on Volt's face, and the youngling twins looked a little confused for the briefest of moments before all three adopted those same uncaring, innocent expressions as before, the kind that didn't raise suspicion.

Prowl looked from her to the younglings and back again. "Did you see who did?"

Mute Spark opened her mouth to speak . . . then closed it again, remembering she couldn't. She wondered if anyone, even her, had ever realized her silence ran much deeper than that time alone on Gamma Base.

_'Please, sir, no! No, it wasn't them! It was me! I'm the one you want!'_

She heaved a sigh, knowing she both would and wouldn't regret what she was about to do. It hurt to lie, but she couldn't abandon the sparkli- the younglings. _=It was me, sir.=_

Jaws dropped, every mech and femme who had heard the general broadcast turning to her in surprise. Even Prowl looked taken aback, as he gestured to the splatter on her chassis. "Then how did you get paint on yourself, and how did the younglings end up with the pistols, which I know for certain are owned by these twins?"

Mute Spark forced herself to stand at attention, her optics open and staring straight into Prowl's own. _=I stole the pistols from the twins' quarters after they mentioned the toys earlier. Shadowblade taught me how to make a remote firing assembly, and I used that to shoot myself in order to throw off suspicion. When I left the pistols scattered through the air shafts, I did not anticipate that the younglings would find the pistols and start playing with them. If you need more proof besides my word, you can find the paint cans in a storage closet in the youngling lounge. I created a remotely deactivated feed-loop on the camera in that room as I prepared, but you can see prior to that me walking towards it, and me talking to these younglings right before that.=_

"And where did you get the paint?"

_=I . . . I s-stole it from the Med Bay.= _She winced at her own stuttering, but it only served to sell her story better.

Prowl studied her for a long, long moment, holding her gaze as she held her expression steady. Finally, he turned to the younglings. "Is this accurate?"

The younglings nodded, looking a bit confused, but Mute Spark was grateful to note that it was easily passed as confusion for why she would do something like this.

Off to the side, Charger started forward. "You little-!"

"Charger!" Flareup's optics flashed white as she placed herself between Mute Spark and the startled blue-green mech. Shadowblade joined her, offering silent support. "Don't you _dare_ lay a hand on my daughter."

Charger stepped back, but didn't look at all calm. "It wasn't a hologram this time, Flareup! It was actual paint."

"Oh, come off it. It wasn't like it was a plasma pistol. She didn't hurt anyone. She didn't even mean for the younglings to get caught up in it."

"She ruined my paint!" That was from a very upset yellow mech, one of those who had been present at the _Celestial_'s landing. Sunstreaker, she was pretty sure his name was. He glared down at a blue splatter on his shoulder, and she had to force herself not to look at Volt.

A light blue-armored mech, with a large Autobot symbol on his left arm and a small, slashed through Decepticon insignia down lower on his front chassis, stepped forward, arms crossed. It looked like he had been hit more than once with the blue paint, and he did not look happy as he narrowed green optics at her. "What if Decepticons had attacked? You all are used to being in a ship where you can see all around you. Here, there is much more interference."

Flareup frowned back at the mech. "No one was injured, Sparklight," she reiterated. "And I'll have you know, I did have to clean up a large black splatter on my own back earlier."

Mute Spark willed herself not to react. Seriously? It looked like Dash had really gotten into it. And this was Sparklight, Volt's father? He wasn't what she expected from a medic, but then . . . she had only ever had experience with those aboard the _Celestial_ that she could remember.

Now she understood exactly why Flareup had wanted her to wait before getting into the job. She was still young, and they wanted to see how she would respond to all the changes.

Guiltily, she figured she hadn't done very well at that test at all.

Sparklight scowled right back at the femme medic. "Look, I'm not saying we even touch her. She's a _femme_, and a young one at that, barely into her third frame by your own account. I know better, and so does Sunstreaker. I'm not even saying we shout at her. But she did tamper with a security camera, steal from younglings, and generally cause chaos throughout the base. Like it or not, she did put us at some degree of risk."

So this was where Volt got his bluntness from. Mute Spark couldn't withhold a wince as it was laid bare to her, the severity of just what it was she and the younglings had done together . . . and what she was taking entirely on herself.

None of the mechs looked happy with her, she noticed, and winced again at the darkening looks. They had probably expected this from the Lambo Twins she had heard tell about, but her, a newcomer . . .

Prowl sighed, venting hard. "Unfortunately, medic Sparklight is correct. And just because your daughter is a femme, medic Flareup, and young, ignorant, and new, does not excuse her from punishment."

Mute Spark tensed, just as her guardians and Blitz did. Angry red optics danced across her vision, but she forced them away. She was with _Autobots_, and she was not a sparkling.

Prowl met her gaze again. "Mute Spark. Do you understand the charges brought against you?"

She nodded shakily. _=I do, sir. And I apologize wholeheartedly for putting everyone at risk. That was not my intent. I will accept my punishment without complaint, and I will not participate in an incident like this again.=_

Prowl nodded in satisfaction, a few other Autobots looking appeased at the sincerity of the words. "Then here is your punishment. You are an adult, and thus will receive the punishment of one. You will spend at least four joors in the brig, and no visitors will be permitted."

Mute Spark winced at that last bit. Could she handle four joors alone? But it was a much lighter punishment than she had unconsciously been expecting, so she was at least grateful for that. _=Yes, sir.=_

Flareup looked afraid for her, no doubt also thinking of her fear of being alone. "But, sir-"

"Enough," Prowl ordered sternly. "It could very well have been more, and had it not been for Mute Spark's condition, it would have been. I know none of you like it, Shadowblade, Blitz, Flareup, but Mute Spark has pledged herself to accepting the punishment. She is not a youngling, and she is an Autobot under the Prime's command. As such, she is to be treated just as any other adult femme Autobot. And please understand, the no visitors rule is just as much for her protection as it is for her punishment. Ironhide, Swiftcast, please escort Mute Spark to the brig and stand guard outside. All of you are dismissed."

Mute Spark smiled in what she hoped was a reassuring way to her guardians and Blitz, knowing how worried they were. _=I'll be fine. It's better than I was hoping for, actually. It's only four joors. And Swiftcast will be right there.=_

Flareup didn't seem all that reassured. "Mute Spark . . ."

She closed her optics and turned away. _=I'm sorry for hitting you with the paint, by the way. I wasn't really paying attention to who I was getting . . . Except for Charger.=_

As she was escorted away, Blitz stifled his laughter. _=Oh, yeah. You have it out for him,=_ he commed privately.

Mute Spark shrugged, resolutely keeping her gaze away from the younglings. _=He _insulted_ me,=_ she answered, as if that explained everything.

And in a way, it did.

**...**

"_Please, sir, no! No, it wasn't them! It was me! I'm the one you want!"_

"_Really, now. Very well, then. Whiteout, Blackclaw, get the little brats into another cage. It's solitary for this one. Let's see if I can teach this insolent little glitch a lesson. Do you know what it is, little Darkstar? No? It's quite simple, really. Just three words._

"_Never. Speak. Again."_

**...**_  
_

Mute Spark was certain that, had her vocalizer been active and had she not had mental inability to make a sound, she would have been screaming as she woke up from the nightmare. It was so vivid, so real, so . . .

So utterly terrifying and haunting. This was no simply night terror, the conjuring of a child's fears. No, this was a memory, stark and simple, vague and never gone. To speak out against a captor like that was foolhardy at best, suicidal at worst. And yet she had done that, all for sparklings, both older and younger, that disappeared one by one, never to be seen again as the vorns passed. And she, Darkstar at the time, had been lucky or unlucky enough to be the strongest, the one to survive it all. The one success . . .

Mute Spark sent a fearful glance to the bars of her cell. They reminded her too much of her sparkling days. Time alone had been a blessing back then, but also haunting in its entirety. To be alone in her cage had meant that all the other sparklings were gone, very likely dead. While she knew she had nothing to fear here, that still did not chase away the memories.

She really shouldn't have slipped into recharge.

Mute Spark knew that things were being said about her, the poor, strange femme who never talked, who was like a child most of the time. She knew they thought she couldn't remember anything before the attack on the outpost, but . . . that wasn't true. It was true that she had forgotten for a time, and that some memories still eluded her, but she was now even more messed up than before. She remembered Darkstar, and Brightstar . . . They were her past selves, sparkling and youngling. She knew she could easily erase all those images, thoughts, sounds, and feelings, but something in her just refused to let go. Both of of her prior sets of parents had given so much for her, in the end their lives. If she forgot everything, she wouldn't be able to remember their sacrifices, and she couldn't prevent something similar from happening again.

If only the nameless mech from her memories didn't hold such power over her . . . If only his identity hadn't been one of the things that still escaped her grasp. It was frustrating at the utmost minimal, and she wanted so much to be able to truthfully tell Flareup and Shadowblade that she was okay, that they didn't have to worry. She wanted to _speak_, blast it! But . . . No matter how hard she tried, she just couldn't. That "lesson" from so long ago weighed heavily upon her, and she doubted she would forget the pain and the fear anytime soon.

The loneliness was encroaching in on her again, in a more powerful wave than before. She wanted to cry out to Swiftcast, her warrior friend and temporary brig guard, but pride and stubbornness to adhere to Prowl's instructions kept her from doing so. The fact that Swiftcast would be a guard and not a visitor didn't once cross her mind, but if it had it would have been pummeled to death by the doubt.

_Clang._

Mute Spark's head came up like a shot, optics wide as she stared at a small air vent on the nearby wall outside of her cell. What in space was that?

Whispers, hovering at the edge of her hearing, suddenly broke out as the soft metal-on-metal sound died away. "Nice going, bolthead!"

"Hey, this is harder than it looks!"

"_Shh!_ Do you two _want_ to get caught?"

The femme stared in utter fascination as a muted scraping noise started up a moment later, coming to a halt right at the vent. Were her audio receptors deceiving her? There was no way it could _possibly_ be . . .

The vent popped open, caught an instant before contact with the ground. "Close one," the second voice chirped. He was answered with a grunt from the first, then a silver and green form came tumbling out, shoved from behind by a white arm. Upon coming to a rest, the youngling scowled into the air shaft. "That was uncalled for!"

"Please," Volt answered uncaringly. "You had it in my face the whole way. It was absolutely _begging _me to do that."

"You could've gotten us caught!"

A black and green head poked out of the shaft as Volt exited to scowl at its owner's brother. "_You're_ going to get us caught if you don't quiet down," Dash hissed. "Shut up and find her already."

Scooter picked himself up from the floor and scampered toward the only closed cell. "Hey, there!" he greeted her, grinning broadly.

Mute Spark raised a hand and returned the wave hesitantly. She wasn't hallucinating, was she? There was no way . . .

Scooter positively beamed at the reply and returned to the other younglings to drag them back toward her cell. When they got there, Scooter bounced in place excitedly, Dash regarded the femme curiously, and Volt crossed his arms and looked just plain cross.

Mute Spark stared openly at the younglings, her gaze darting to the door every moment or so. Scooter stopped his bouncing long enough to speak intelligently – or as much as possible for him – and let his features twist into a frown. "Aren't you happy to see us?"

Mute Spark was utterly amazed at their courage in coming. _=What . . . are you doing here? I'm not allowed any visitors. You'll get caught!=_

Scooter pouted. "But we wanted to see you!"

His jet friend scowled at him, then looked back at the femme in the cell. "He wanted to," he said in his typical blunt way. "Dash, too, maybe. I was forced to come."

Mute Spark could only stare even more.

Volt frowned at her, a look of incredulity in his optics. "Why on Earth are you curled up like that, femme? You look pathetic."

Scooter rounded on him. "Volt!" he hissed. Dash just rolled his optics as another _clang_ sounded on Scooter's hand's impact with the back of Volt's helm. Mute Spark could only smile, growing more used to Volt's way of speaking with each passing klick. It was obvious these three weren't going anywhere at the moment, and beyond the fear of them being caught, she didn't care. It was . . . nice.

Her smile grew, and she ducked her head to hide her suddenly tearing optics. _= . . . Thank you.=_

All three younglings focused their gaze on her. Scooter suddenly grinned again, and stretched his arms to lace his fingers together behind his head. "No problem! Least we can do, anyway. Hoo, boy, you've got guts! I mean, to lie to the _entire_ command staff?"

Dash and Volt whirled to face him, horrified, even as Mute Spark lurched toward the bars, making shushing motions. Her optics were wide, as were Scooter's as he clamped his hands down over his mouth, shocked at his slip.

The younglings groaned. "_Scoo-ter~!_"

**...**

"Prowl, please, let us visit!"

The second-in-command pretty much ignored Flareup, as he had for the past few breems after Flareup and Shadowblade had come to him, appealing to him to change his mind about their surrogate daughter's punishment. Two joors had passed since Mute Spark's confession and sentencing, and the two sparkmates were growing increasingly agitated. Shadowblade didn't vocalize this, but his bonded was doing more than enough vocalizing for the two of them.

Charger, freshly cleaned and painted, was the one to answer the femme medic, but only with a derisive snort.

Finally, Shadowblade spoke up, restraining Flareup from attacking the aggressive mech. "Prowl, please understand that we fully respect your authority as Prime's second, and that in his absence you are in charge. It's just . . . Mute Spark's terrified of being alone. She's been doing a little better, but this long . . . My fear is that this will damage her psyche even more than it is already."

Sparklight paused in his scrubbing diligently at the blue paint on his arm, not yet able to properly clean up and get repainted due to the number of mechs and femmes needing to. The line would have backed up all the way to crew quarters, had everyone not been ordered to continue in their duties. "What's that femme's problem, anyway?"

"Mute Spark," Flareup snapped, and then she sighed, calming down. "It's really a long story. Simple version is that she lost her memory in the attack on Gamma Base and woke up alone. I don't know how long she had to hide from Decepticons after that before we found her. There might be something more than that, but . . . she's never said. We don't know, because she hasn't told us."

Charger snorted again. "The femme's been a troublemaker since the day Shadowblade brought her aboard. Her CPU's already glitched. A few joors on her own isn't going to make things any worse."

"Charger, you-!"

"Enough," Prowl interjected, finally turning to face the others. "Flareup, Shadowblade, I'm taking your concerns under advisement. Before we do _anything_, however, we will access the brig security cameras to make sure."

Flareup looked mildly appeased, at least. "Thank you, sir."

"Don't thank me yet, medic Flareup." Prowl tapped the commands into Teltraan-1, frowning. Ironhide and Swiftcast were just outside the brig. If Flareup and Shadowblade's concerns were well-founded, then all he would need to do would be to station one or both inside. They would still be guards, not visitors.

The feed came up, and his frown hardened as his optics immediately narrowed in suspicion. "What are the younglings doing there?"

The other four surged forward to look at the small monitor. What they saw surprised all of them, with all three of the younglings from the earlier incident being present.

Prowl turned on the audio, and just in time, too. Scooter was speaking.

"_You've got guts!"_ he crowed._ "I mean, to lie to the _entire_ command staff?"_

Prowl blinked, and the Autobots looking over his shoulder balked. Except for Sparklight, however, who just smirked. Naturally, he _would_ suspect his son to be genuinely involved.

Mute Spark lurched toward the bars of her cell even as the other two younglings rounded on the poor mech. _"Scooter!"_ they scolded.

Scooter grinned sheepishly, then grimaced. _"Um . . . Oops . . ."_

Flareup blinked. "She lied to us?"

Her sparkmate snickered. "She covered for the younglings. I think she was afraid of them getting in trouble. Man, that's my girl!"

"Shadowblade!" Charger snarled. "Don't encourage this!"

Prowl just sighed. "Sparklight, Flareup, Shadowblade, follow me. Your attendance is mandatory, and unfortunately the twins' parents are out east right now."

Charger scowled. "I'm coming, too."

The SIC frowned at him for a short moment and then nodded. "If you insist, and medic Flareup does not protest. Ironhide, Swiftcast?"

There was static for a moment, then, _"Yeah, Prowl?"_ came the Texan-like accent.

"There are three younglings in the brig. Make sure they don't go anywhere."

"_Sure thing."_

**...**_  
_

"I can't believe you just said that!" Volt hissed. "How stupid can you be, Scooter?"

Scooter looked rather pitiful at the tirade. "I'm sorry. It just . . . slipped out. I didn't mean to!"

"Primus! Coming here was bad enough, but-"

Dash clapped a hand over both younglings' mouths. "Quiet, both of you," he ordered.

At all of this, Mute Spark sighed. _=Thank you, all of you, for visiting me. But you should go now, before you're discovered.=_

Scooter's demeanor changed instantly as he stepped away from his brother's hand. "No way! I owe you!"

Volt scowled and seized the well-meaning mech's arm, then began dragging him toward the open air shaft. "So repay her by doing as she asks, you slagger. Come on, let's get out of here."

A shaft of bright light appeared, ever so slowly, accompanied by the soft swishing of the door. Mute Spark froze, as did the younglings when they immediately realized the origin of the illumination. As one, their heads turned to look over their shoulders, optics wide. A large red mech stood framed in the doorway, blue optics blazing in triumph. "And just where do you three think you're going?"

The younglings spared only a single, horrified glance between themselves before making a break for it. Ironhide was faster, however, and blocked their path to the open vent. As Swiftcast entered the brig and closed the door behind himself, Ironhide took care of the escape route, closing it securely.

Mute Spark scarcely knew how to salvage this situation. What could she say to throw blame off of the younglings? There was nothing, she found, only words to soften the blow.

Said younglings were trapped by now, caught between Ironhide and Swiftcast. Volt looked defiant, Scooter sheepish, and Dash just looked resigned. He no doubt had expected something like this, and by the look on his faceplates, she figured he had tried to warn Scooter unsuccessfully of the prospect.

Swiftcast sent a pointed look to her. "How you holding up, kid?"

Mute Spark could only shrug. _=It was very lonely. In the younglings' defense, they prevented me from having a mental breakdown.=_

Swiftcast winced at that. "You could have called me, you know."

_=I will not disobey a direct order. Nor would I ask anyone else to on my behalf. I am fine now. This doesn't matter anymore.=_

"Kid, you used the words, 'mental breakdown.'"

_=And I must learn to deal with it.=_ Mute Spark looked away, then drew back to sit on the cell berth. _=If I never force myself to deal with it, I'll never learn. Do you understand?=_

"No. Maybe someday, but not right now. And you can't just deal with a potential mental breakdown on your own."

Mute Spark shrugged. _=Someday, I may have to.=_

Swiftcast looked unsettled by that answer more than anything else, but no reply was forthcoming as the door behind him slid open. Two black hands clamped down on the shoulders of Scooter and Volt, making any thoughts of running for it moot as Ironhide held the twitchy younglings in place. Swiftcast stepped aside, saluting, and Mute Spark slowly stood from the berth to watch as six more adults stepped through the door. Only one of the party was a femme, and Mute Spark was both happy and worried to find that it was Flareup, Shadowblade standing right beside her. Charger was also present, to her extreme dislike, as were Sparklight, Prowl, and for some unknown reason, Jazz. Said third-in-command was smirking, and he offered a quick grin to a much confused Mute Spark.

Prowl silently called for attention. He stepped forward, even as the group spread out a bit, and looked from Mute Spark to the younglings with an intense blue gaze. Scooter grew a little fidgety under the scrutiny, but otherwise offered nothing. Mute Spark, for her part, stepped closer to the bars of her cell and braced herself.

The SIC crossed his arms after a long, quiet moment. "Are any of you ready to tell us the truth, now?" he asked, his voice a soft rumble. Mute Spark stiffened, keenly aware of where this was going.

After a moment of no answers, Prowl tapped an audio receptor and played a short clip. _"I mean, to lie to the _entire_ command staff?" _

Scooter's recorded voice echoed slightly in the still room, the only other sound being the low thrum of the energon bars. Mute Spark couldn't help but to cringe, knowing they were found out. Still, she said nothing, and the younglings did likewise.

Prowl nodded. "Very well. Then I shall relate the events for you.

"You were all four responsible for the painting of mechs and femmes around the base. Mute Spark joined you younglings in the lounge in her desire to not be alone, and you, Scooter and Volt, convinced both her and Dash to participate in your . . . game. Volt devised the point system, based on footage of the lounge prior to the younglings' departure from it, and he was the one to steal the paint from the Med Bay. Scooter took Dash with him to get the water pistols, and Mute Spark established a temporary feed-loop on the lounge camera, just as she reported. You spread out for a time, and Mute Spark used her training to keep from being detected. She eventually decided to stop before she was discovered, shot herself with her red paint, and left the air shafts, fully confident that the younglings would not be caught.

"Her plans changed, however, when the younglings were discovered with the pistols, and she spontaneously devised a story to put all the blame on herself. In truth, she was the most reluctant in the beginning apart from Dash, and all four of you were equally to blame. Does that about cover it?"

Mute Spark kept her expression blank, refusing to acknowledge any of it. The younglings, however, couldn't stop the brief twists in their own faceplates, and the adults correctly interpreted the looks.

Jazz grinned. "I gotta say, y'all were quite sneaky. Good job at that."

Prowl glared at him. "Jazz. Do not encourage them."

"Yeah, yeah . . ."

The blue-green mech in the group looked very unhappy at this turn of events. He let out a low growl, prompting Flareup's optics to flash whiter, and then he wordlessly stormed out of the brig, the door closing softly behind him.

The SIC gave no acknowledgement of Charger's exit. "Now, then. As punishment, Mute Spark, for your part in this chaos and for lying to commanding officers, you are hereby sentenced to one more joor in the brig, two already being served. Visitors, however, will be permitted, as long as it is only your guardians. Sparklight, you may discipline your son, now. Scooter, Dash, you will come with Jazz and me to the communications room to contact your parents."

The twins gulped, even as Sparklight unceremoniously dragged Volt out of the brig, smirking slightly. Volt protested at the action, and as the door closed again, his voice faded farther and farther away.

Shadowblade and Flareup stayed behind while Prowl and Jazz escorted the twins out. Ironhide and Swiftcast stepped back into the hall, and Mute Spark evenly met the gaze of the latter. A smile was all she offered to him before the door closed one last time, and then the small family was alone.

Shadowblade sat on the hard floor with his ankles crossed, legs bending toward each other in a way humans described as "Indian-style." His palms supported his weight as he leaned back, and he directed calculating sky blue optics at the young femme in the cell, even as Flareup settled down next to him.

"Why'd you do it?" he asked.

Mute Spark blinked. _=Do what?=_

"Cover for the younglings, even when you knew you would get in much bigger trouble. They would have gotten off quite easily, you know."

Mute Spark hesitated. What to tell them? She didn't want them to know, yet, the depth of her problems.

After a moment, she decided. _=I suppose . . . it might be because I was unintentionally abandoned when the Decepticons murdered all the Neutrals on Gamma Base, including those I called my parents.=_ Was that vague enough? The last part, she knew, would have them wondering and suspicious. _=I couldn't intentionally abandon the younglings. I . . . never have been able to. As for why I participated in the paint war at all, I figured it was better to have fun and get in trouble than to be alone. And according to my calculations, Dash was the one who won. His percentage of black-splotched adults and officers was much higher than Volt's blue and Scooter's green on any of the mechs and femmes, as those two had degenerated into shooting at each other. Dash's percentage was even higher than my own, since I moved around a lot and shot only once or twice at each location.=_

Her guardians took that all in, the game's score distracting them a bit from her melancholy answers at the beginning. After a moment, Shadowblade smirked. "That's my girl."

Mute Spark broke out into a broad grin, even as Flareup began laughing. "Oh, yeah," the femme medic crowed. "Ratchet's going to _love _you."

* * *

**Thus concludes _Shadow of Doubt, Hope for The Future_**

**Continued in _Evaluation

* * *

_**

Vorn = 83 years  
Orn = 13 days  
Joor = 6.5 hours  
Breem = 8.3 minutes  
Klick = 1.2 minutes

_Images of Mute Spark, Shadowblade, and Flareup are on my deviantART account._

Continued from **_Mute Spark: The Beginning_**. Based somewhat on an RPG between **AznLi**,** Shioji-san**, and myself (**FuzzySlipper**) on deviantART. I added a lot more to it, and changed it around some, though some things hold true. It was originally going to lean more towards humor, but then I decided to dig more into my character's past. Yay, character development! XD

Volt and Sparklight belong to **Shioji-san**

Flareup, Shadowblade, Mute Spark, Charger, Blitz, and Swiftcast belong to me (**FuzzySlipper**)

Scooter and Dash also belong to me (**FuzzySlipper**), but are based on two characters of **AznLi** that she used in the RPG, and were changed to my own at her permission.


	7. Evaluation

Thank you for the reviews, **lilyou22** and **Forever Dreaming Grace**! They are very much appreciated. ^_^

This part was a MONSTER. O_O

* * *

**Evaluation**

By Falcon's Hyperdrive

A.k.a. Fuzzy Slipper

Begun 5-12-10

Finished 1-29-11

* * *

Mute Spark knew very well that her trespass one week ago – half an orn – was not forgiven, and it was not forgotten. She was in no way surprised by this. The Cybertronian species was long-lived, and they had long memory. With one orn comparable to one Earth solar cycle for her people, half of her peoples' "day" was a very short time, especially in the minds of the former crew of the _Celestial_, such as Mute Spark and her guardians. They were very recent arrivals, even to the humans.

Still, even though it had only been one and a half orns since arriving on Earth, Mute Spark was quickly succumbing to that restlessness that seemed to be second nature to her. She had never really handled doing nothing very well, at least from what she could remember. Although she remembered certain things from her past, stretches of time remained unremembered by her. She couldn't even remember the name of the Decepticon who had ruined her life . . .

But right now, that didn't matter to her. She had just come out of recharge, and she was fully ready to do something productive, rather than to just wander around trying to find something to keep her CPU occupied. The sound of tinkering made itself known from somewhere inside her new quarters, and she onlined her optics to find Shadowblade sitting by the door, a rifle and some tools in hand.

Mute Spark blinked, rather frankly surprised. Her mech guardian hardly if ever sat in her quarters, waiting for her to wake up, anymore. Something important was about to happen, she knew.

_=Whatever it is, I didn't do it,=_ she told him in good humor. Shadowblade, to his credit, didn't even jerk, long experience paying off well.

He grinned, highly amused as he set the object of his tinkering aside. "Of course you didn't," he answered. "Actually, I think it was that Volt again."

Mute Spark rolled her optics, not doubting that in the least. She had learned first hand that the youngling was quite the troublemaker, especially when paired with those visored twins and herself. _=And what has happened to prompt a guard at my door?=_

Shadowblade shook his head, smirking. "Well, no one's really gotten over your part in that fiasco, yet. That Spike human and his father, Sparkplug, just got in, and they were quite impressed with your daring feats, and your strong will to protect your companions. But none of that's the reason I'm here. Flareup and I have decided an orn off is enough, and you need to start working to keep that brilliant CPU of yours busy." The SpecOps soldier grinned. "What do you think?"

Mute Spark was on her feet before she knew it, optics shining in excitement. _=Yes! It gets boring when I can't go anywhere by myself. I'm ready!=_

Shadowblade laughed. "Okay, then. But I have to warn you," he continued, sobering, "there's something that you have to do, first. In order to be qualified to be on duty, you must first be evaluated in what fighting you know – so that they know what they can and can't do in your duties – and your mental fitness. Optimus Prime will be passing judgement on that last part. Do you understand?"

_=Yes. If I am too immature, I won't be qualified. I am not ignorant, Shadowblade. I know how worried you and Flareup are about me. I promise, I won't let you down.=_

Her mech guardian smiled fondly and rubbed her helm in a familiar gesture as he stood. "I know you won't. Come on, let's get you some energon. We need to be in the training room in one human hour – 7.22891566 breems. Think you can hurry?"

Mute Spark was out the door in a flash. _=Waiting on you, now!=_ she called back.

Shadowblade just laughed and rushed to catch up.

**...**

_=Recount! Guess what, guess what!=_

The ex-captain of the starship _Celestial_ let out an amused chuckle at the young femme's antics as she practically skipped toward him, ignoring the glowering looks some mechs sent her way. While impressed with the femme's resolve, the majority of the Autobots were still not happy with her. "I'm assuming it's not Charger getting pranked by the Twins."

Mute Spark paused at that, stopping across the table from him as she waited for Shadowblade to catch up. _=No, but that would be awesome. And who are the Twins? Not Scooter and Dash, I take it?=_

Recount shook his head. "Nah, the younglings are still grounded. The Twins I'm talking about are Sideswipe and Sunstreaker, whom you may meet at some point in the near future. They land themselves in the Med Bay a lot. So, what's the great news?"

_=Oh!=_ Mute Spark beamed at him, just barely reigning in her excitement. _=Shadowblade says I'm being evaluated in a few breems.=_

Recount nearly choked on his energon. "A few _breems_?" he sputtered when he was able. "Congrats, kid, but you should get there while you can. Ironhide wasn't gentle at all in my evaluation, and he doesn't appreciate tardiness."

Mute Spark somehow managed to snort over the comm. _=Blame Shadowblade, he didn't wake me up. And it'll be drinking and going. Oh, there he is with the energon . . . Bye!=_

Recount grinned. "See you later, then. Oh, hey, kid! Good luck!"

_=Thank you!=_

**...**_  
_

Needless to say, Mute Spark wasn't very happy at all.

_=I can't believe you didn't wake me up!=_

"Ah, well, I figured you could use the rest," came the sheepish reply.

_=Rest! This isn't rest! This is running so I don't get the bolts beaten out of me for getting there _late_!=_

"Relax, Ironhide wouldn't do that."

_=It doesn't help that I participated in the game last . . . week?= _Mute Spark swept the thought aside. _=Say, can you fit in air shafts?=_

"Yes . . .?"

_=Good. Close it behind us, please, I have to make sure I'm on time. And don't think Flareup's not hearing about this!=_

Shadowblade let out a hearty laugh as Mute Spark detoured towards one of the large air vents that had become the head of security's worst nightmare. "I don't doubt it," he assured her. "You know where you're going?"

_=I spent a while acquainting myself during the game,=_ she answered, rather dryly. _=Keep up, now, or you might get lost.=_

Her surrogate father was nothing if not amused. "Right behind you."

**...**

Mute Spark was quite suddenly reminded of her time spent in the brig, when the three younglings came to visit her, as she removed the air vent. The four Autobots waiting for her were watching in surprise, but she ignored them as she waited for Shadowblade to exit the shaft. _=Slowpoke,=_ she teased, replacing the cover.

The SpecOps soldier shrugged, smirking. "What can I say? You're smaller and more maneuverable." He turned, noticed the waiting mechs, and gave a cheery wave. "Hi, we're here!"

One of the four snickered. "Isn't that what got you in trouble in the first place, Sparks?"

Mute Spark turned to him and smiled. _=No, it was the paint I shot at mechs and femmes and lying afterwards that got me in trouble. The crawling around in the air shafts was not restricted.=_

Jazz nodded. "Of course. I can't argue with that. And I'm surprised you fit in there, Blade."

Shadowblade looked sheepish at that. "Yeah, well, it's a little harder than it looks. Helps that I'm built to be more slender, though. Ah, Prowl, sir. Ironhide. Hey, Swiftcast."

Prowl seemed to be doing his best to ignore what Mute Spark and Shadowblade had just done, and a slightly sparking helm seemed to explain why. Mute Spark went into medic mode immediately, and was at his side in an instant. One scan later, and she had fiddled with something in the SIC's helm before anyone realized she had done it.

They all blinked at her as she stepped away, too serious optics staring up at Prowl in concern. _=How's that feel?=_ came the general broadcast.

Prowl blinked again and nodded. "Thank you, Mute Spark. If I may ask, what did you just do?"

_=Hmm? Oh, I simply sent a direct data burst explaining why crawling around in the air shafts to get here on time was completely logical. You should be able to find the information packet easily enough, it's just floating around on top. Anyway, that's all that needed to be done to forestall the triggering of the logic glitch you have.=_

Azure optics were suddenly focused intently on the young femme. "How did you . . .?"

Mute Spark smiled, settling down from the so-called medic mode. _=Medic, remember, sir? Flareup and Shadowblade made sure my frame included top of the line medical scanners. Also, it's interesting what you can hear through gossip, especially when you have nothing else to do for an orn.=_

Prowl adopted a look of understanding and nodded one more time. "I see. Thank you for your quick thinking. Ironhide, Jazz, you may proceed. When you are finished with your evaluations, bring her to the command center. Optimus Prime and I will be waiting there for her mental evaluation."

The command center. There were bound to be quite a few Bots who were upset with Mute Spark there, and she wasn't looking forward to returning to that room. But she had to face them sometime, and it was possible she was just paranoid.

_But just because you're paranoid doesn't mean someone's not out to get you._

Ironhide was observing the smaller femme with a very calculating gaze as Prowl left. "So, you're Mute Spark, hmm?"

The femme did her best not to fidget under his stare, and succeeded for the most part. _=Yes, sir,=_ was her brief answer, and Ironhide nodded approvingly at her lack of flinching.

"Well, then, Mute Spark. Shadowblade's explained to me already that you're not built for frontline fighting, and that you've yet to be given stronger armor, though Flareup's working on it. So, as a result, I'm not expecting all that much from you. This is a simple evaluation, nothing more. Give your absolute best here, and we'll work from there. Understood?"

Mute Spark nodded sharply, reigning in her smile. _=Yes, sir!=_

"Good. Your first evaluation will be hand-to-hand, and you'll be sparring with me. Your instructors, Swiftcast and Shadowblade, will be observing with Jazz. Simply step over here, and we'll begin."

Mute Spark hoped sincerely that Ironhide would take it easy on her. Having nothing else to do gave her plenty of time to hear various stories from the Earth Autobots, and it certainly didn't help that some of them were horror stories about the infamous Ironhide. He really wasn't as bad as he was made out to be, she decided as she followed obediently to sectioned off area where the sparring would take place. At least, so far he wasn't. There was no telling how quickly that view would change. After all, she had only met him once before, when he served as brig guard with Swiftcast.

Jazz's whistle distracted her from her down-spiraling thoughts. "Go get 'im, Sparks!" he cheered. She jerked, a bit startled, then smiled. She was an Autobot, and the student of Swiftcast and the whole of the _Celestial_'s Special Operations Unit. And, she reminded herself as she faced Ironhide once more, it was time to act like it.

She dropped into a crouch soon after entering the sparring ring, her CPU quite abruptly very focused. It had always been like this for her, this centering of the mind. She didn't know if she was sparked like this or not, or if it was a side effect of her sparkling-hood trauma, but she hadn't ever really thought about it before, either. All she knew was that it was there, and it was incredibly helpful in those times when she felt her youngling-like behavior taking control. It worried those who knew her, but she didn't see a problem with it. Distractions could be fatal, after all.

Ironhide nodded approvingly at her ready position. He didn't seem too surprised with her change of attitude, so perhaps he had been warned. The idea wasn't surprising at all to the femme, as she knew everyone was always told what to expect of her. For anyone else it would have been strange; for Mute Spark, it was normal. She just hoped her guardians had remembered to tell them one other thing . . .

**...**

On the sidelines, Shadowblade crossed his arms. "I wonder how long she'll hold out," he commented to Swiftcast, previously hidden concern leaking into his voice. The warrior shook his head, revealing his ignorance.

"I don't know. Get ready to stop her, though."

Jazz frowned, glancing between the two. "Stop her from what?"

Shadowblade rubbed at the back of his neck, discomfort appearing in his expression. "It tends to go one of two ways: first, she'll run and hide; second, she'll go berserk and start thinking of Ironhide as a Decepticon."

The frown deepened. "What triggers it, and why is the last thing bad?"

The silver mech sighed, turning back to look at the circling duelists. "As a rule, Mute Spark never makes a sound. Ever. It's hardwired into her CPU by now, and each noise she makes tends to put her more on edge. And she may not be a front-liner, but my girl can pack a punch. When fighting a comrade, she will never use full force. When up against what she thinks is a Decepticon, however, mental barriers are removed, and she may attempt to use her Last Resort. Someone else is always there to stop her before she carries through with it, though."

Jazz blinked. "What's her Last Resort?"

"It's her-" Shadowblade broke off, staring at his superior. "We didn't tell you?"

"No."

Swiftcast hissed. "If you don't know, then Ironhide wouldn't. Shadowblade . . ."

The mech was already stepping forward to warn Ironhide of the possibilities, but he was too late. In the ring, an unspoken signal had been given, and the two combatants sprang forward.

**...**

The first clash of metal against metal caused Mute Spark to jerk backwards, leaping out of range of Ironhide's fists. _She_ had made that noise, and this fact seemed to rebel against something deeply ingrained in the femme's CPU. She wasn't supposed to make noise; that could bring the bad mech, and-

Her thoughts came to a grinding halt as she scowled inwardly. Why did that keep coming up? The "bad mech," which was all she knew him by, wasn't anywhere around. She was with the Autobots, and there were no Decepticons here. She was safe, and she could make noise.

_Maybe if I couldn't hear it?_

It was an entirely childish concept, the one of "if I can't see him, he can't see me." It would cut down drastically on her chances of holding her own against Ironhide, but she didn't want to freak out on him as she had done with others in the past. Thank Primus, it hadn't happened often, and it had never been with Shadowblade. He was almost always there, though, to stop her before she hurt anybody. He had installed Last Resort; he knew how to prevent her from firing.

Oblivious to all of these thoughts, Ironhide charged, sending a punch directly at her face. She ducked, deactivating her audio receptors, and retaliated. She could feel the vibrations when her hand connected, but she couldn't hear it, and that was her saving grace. She would just have to make sure she kept an eye on Ironhide's face, too, so she could tell when he was talking.

**...**

Shadowblade stared at the spectacle before him. "Did she just shut off her audio?"

"Apparently, she did." Swiftcast crossed his arms. "She hasn't done that before. Maybe it'll help."

The silver mech frowned in worry. "She can't defend herself against Decepticons if she can't hear them."

"Blade, she's not going to turn off her hearing all the time. I think she just knows what making noise does to her, and she doesn't want to risk hurting Ironhide. You have to admit, it seems to be working."

"That's the danger. It's working, so she'll do it again. She can't rely on a crutch, or things will just get worse for her." Shadowblade gripped the barrier with tense hands, optics trained steadily on the practice fight before him. "And when she does make noise and hear it, it just might make things even worse for her."

The look in Swiftcast's optics was grim. "I guess you're right. So now what?"

Shadowblade cycled air through his vents. "I guess all we can do is wait. After they're done, I'll explain the problem. She's too focused to let me step in safely. And if she snaps . . ."

"You'll stop her." Swiftcast nodded. "You always have. Hoo, man, that one time she got a shot off, I thought Charger was gonna get slagged for sure. If she hadn't pulled her aim at the last moment, he might have."

The silver mech's head came up and around in an instant. "What's that? When was this?"

Swiftcast frowned. "Wait, you thought it was because of her prankster tendencies that he hated her? Well, it hasn't helped, but still . . . She never told you?"

Shadowblade fought against a scowl. "No. What happened?"

The warrior shrugged. "He never liked her much anyway. One day while she was training, Charger picked a fight with li'l Spark and egged her into sparring with him. She was losing, because it was straight-on fighting like this, and Charger went to knock her out. I came in just in time to see the end of the fight, and saw when something snapped in her CPU. That wasn't anger or any remote sense of calm in her optics, Blade. She was plain terrified. She had activated Last Resort on one arm and had it aimed at him before I could react, then something seemed to click in her. She pulled her shot just before it went off, and Charger was _this close_ to getting hit. If she hadn't moved her arm, he would have been. Let me tell you, the damage that shot left in the wall was impressive. Ever since, Charger's hated her. For which of the involved factors, I'm not sure."

Shadowblade cycled air through his vents again. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Swiftcast shrugged again. "I thought she had. Sorry, Blade, I should've confirmed it."

"I should've dug deeper into why Charger acts that way toward her. Well, at least we know she can marginally control herself if we're too slow."

This time the brown mech nodded. "Yeah, there's that."

Jazz was scowling. "So _that's_ why Charger's worse than Sunstreaker in the attitude department?"

"No." Shadowblade somehow found it in himself to smirk. "That's just him." Then that smirk died. "But I suppose that is why his attitude always gets even _worse_ when Mute Spark's around. Slag it, if I had known . . ." He snapped his attention back to the sparring session in the ring. Ironhide was charging again, and Mute Spark's mental control had just failed, bringing her into what they called "assassin mode." How much longer until she panicked?

The SpecOps commander wasn't done yet, though. "But what is Last Resort?"

Swiftcast grinned despite it all. "A pair of freaky-powerful cannons."

"Really? What's it look like?"

Suddenly, Shadowblade launched himself over the barrier and sprinted toward his surrogate daughter and Ironhide. Behind him, Swiftcast pointed, all too calm for the circumstances. "Like that."

**...**

Mute Spark was rather surprised at how long she had held out so far. Surely this was a record for her. Certainly, it was a rather short amount of time for any normal person, but she was hardly normal. It didn't take long for her CPU to get out of whack, and deactivating her audio receptors had bought her so much more time in the scheme of things.

_ALERT._

Bright red lights flashed across her vision, warning her to dodge a blow. She did, and the nearness of it rattled something within her. She no longer remembered what she had just been thinking, and her movements became more hesitant, more jerky. Worse still, she didn't remember why this was bad. Something was going on, but what?

A fist streaked by in front of her optics, and several panels began to flare. Someone was trying to hurt her! Her optics burned white at this realization, and any semblance of restraint disappeared. All that had been taught to her about fighting was put to use as she muted her energy signature, and she danced around the large red form attacking her. She wasn't a front-line fighter, so she knew she couldn't go head-on with anyone. However, the SpecOps team aboard the _Celestial_ had taught her quite a few moves pertaining to assassination. Darn, but this Decepticon was fast . . .

Something didn't feel right with that thought, however. Why would a Decepticon be on the _Celestial_? Oh, no, they weren't being invaded, were they? Was that where everyone else was, fighting the Cons?

That thought quickly frayed whatever nerves she had remaining. She drew her energon blade, not knowing why she was fighting unarmed prior to that point, and slashed it at her attacker. The red form jumped back, then seized the wrist holding the blade. Panicking, she raised her left arm and charged Last Resort.

One glance up froze her arm where it was, however, the built-up charge remaining unreleased. Confused, but stern, blue optics stared back at her, their owner's mouth moving but giving off no sound. _Blue_ optics, not red. And why couldn't she hear what he was saying? Oh, yes, she had her audio turned off. Something touched her shoulder, cautiously, and she turned, staring at her mech guardian's face.

A different sort of fear filled her, and Last Resort was deactivated in an instant, Mute Spark's blade dropping to the floor in tandem. She could have _hurt_ him! Memory flooded back, and she curled up on herself, frame trembling as her wide optics stared at the floor. Shadowblade tapped one of her audio receivers, and she reluctantly turned them back on.

"It's okay, Mute Spark. He's fine. You didn't fire, he's safe. You didn't hurt him. It's not your fault. Shh . . ."

Mute Spark's sensors were hyper-sensitive right now, so she could _feel_ Ironhide's frown as he stared at them, still holding the femme's wrist. "What," he asked slowly, "the slag was that."

The femme willed herself to stand straight and to stop shaking. Her expression was nothing short of remorseful, and she couldn't bring herself to meet the warrior's optics no matter how hard she tried. She made no move to take her wrist back, fearing the squad leader's reaction. _=I'm sorry. I- It- I'm not sure what happens.=_

Shadowblade placed a hand on her shoulder and gave a sharp look to Ironhide's hand. Taking the clue, the red mech released Mute Spark's limb and crossed his arms. "Shadowblade. Explain."

The silver mech cycled air through his vents. "I apologize for forgetting to inform you of this. Mute Spark never makes sound, and when sparring she tends to hold back. One noise too many made by her – or in cases like this, one close call too many – and she forgets where she is and who she's fighting. She thought you were a Decepticon, sir, until she saw your optics. When you grabbed her wrist, she determined she couldn't get away without firing Last Resort, the cannons in her forearms that are tied directly to her spark energy. They are draining but powerful, and could have seriously injured you had she not realized who you were and remembered what was happening. Usually I stop her, but apparently she often has enough control to stop herself from hitting a fellow Autobot."

Mute Spark looked up at her mech guardian and blinked in surprise at the proud look in his optics. What did he mean by that? And then she realized, with a glance at Swiftcast, that he knew about Charger. Any related thought she might have had, however, was derailed when Ironhide grunted. Wincing, she finally met his gaze, and was astonished at the lack of agression in it. _=You're not mad.=_

Ironhide rolled his optics. "You can't control reflex, femme, and I know you've got deep-buried ones."

_=Basically, I've got problems.=_

"If you want to put it that way, yes. But I will say this: when you started thinking of me as a Con, well, your skills definitely showed themselves. It was when you started actually panicking that they degenerated again. We'll need to work on that."

Mute Spark's optics narrowed. _=What do you mean?=_

"I mean, kid, that in future training we're going to be helping you to not fritz. And when sparring, _don't hold back_. At least, not against me. I can handle myself."

Slowly, Mute Spark nodded. That was it? After such a disaster as that, he wasn't going to do anything else?

In answer to this, Ironhide turned back to Shadowblade. "Your kid's got moves. Good job on that. Right, then, femme. Targeting evaluation. Since Shadowblade said that this 'Last Resort' is draining, then we won't mess with that until a medic besides yourself is present. Know how to use a sniper rifle?"

Mute Spark straightened, relieved. Did she! She wasn't Bluestreak, that was for sure – and she had watched him practice – but she was at least a half-decent shot. In a pinch, she could serve as a sniper, and had the advantage of being able to mute her energy signature. As long as she didn't have to fight anyone again, she could handle this. _=Yes, sir,=_ she answered.

"Good. Of course, I should have known that, with your display in the little paint war last week. Er, half an orn ago. Right, then. Follow me, un-mute your energy signature, and we'll get started."

**...**

She did very well on the targeting evaluation, all things considered. There were more than a few missed shots, but the majority of them hit at least close to the bulls-eye. The following stealth test was aced, of course, in which she had to remain undetected by Jazz for ten breems. After that, she had to make contact with the back of his neck with one of her hands without him having noticed her approach. Having a certain ability, of course, made this much easier. Following this, she had to detect _him_ within twenty breems; she completed it in five.

And then it was time to go to the command center. This was the part Mute Spark was dreading most of all. She had not seen Optimus Prime since the _Celestial_ first landed, but she had heard many good stories about him. Even so, he and Prowl were the ones who would evaluate her mental condition, and if she would be allowed to serve in their ranks. She knew she would not be cast out, but it was their judgement that would decree whether she could _do _anything to _help_ the Autobots, as opposed to sitting around on her aft as she had done ever since she had been found at Gamma Base. True, she had assisted in the Med Bay, but she had been taught skills and now she wanted to protect people, not just be protected herself. Yes, it was nice to be able to have someone to protect her, unlike most of her sparkling years, but she knew full well she was a veritable harbinger of death. Thus far, she had not been found, but they had found her at Gamma Base . . .

_And that's enough of that for now._ This was something that definitely needed thought over, but Mute Spark was well aware that now was not the time. One day soon she would have to warn her guardians what the Autobots had potentially brought upon themselves, but at the moment she was not ready. She couldn't even remember the Decepticon's name! And she knew he had to be a Decepticon, for only they had red optics. Only they had such a low regard for life.

That thought terrified her for a reason she knew she could not reveal anytime soon. Charger already hated her. Why give him even more reason? Unless . . . he already knew? He had always hated her, she remembered. This would bear investigating, when the time was right. For now, they were almost to the command center, and Shadowblade looked like he was about to say something.

She was right. "Just relax, kiddo. Everything will be fine, you'll see. We'll have to tell them about the risks in sparring against you, but they'll understand."

Mute Spark looked away. _=I'm glitched.=_

"_No_, you are not. You can work through this. It'll take time, but I know you can overcome it. I have confidence in you."

She looked up at his beaming face and offered a small smile of her own, reassured. She _would_ overcome this, no matter how long it took. She was not glitched. One day, she would push past her fear of the nameless Decepticon and speak. Once that happened, a whole realm of possibilities would open up.

_So why not now?_

And then it was time to walk inside and face the music, as it were. That question, as always, would remain unanswered. At least for now.

A swift silence greeted the group of five as they entered the command center, as many as a dozen meches and femmes turning to stare at the door. No, not the door . . . At Mute Spark. She started to duck her head when she realized this, then stopped herself. What did it matter if they stared or not? If it was because of the incident half an orn ago, she well deserved those glares. No matter her intentions, she had also lied to commanding officers. That she was remorseful was points in her favor, but even so . . . No one was happy with her in this room.

Except, strangely, Optimus Prime and Prowl. That was to say, they weren't _un_happy with her, and Prime had this strange bearing to him, as if he were amused. Prowl was impassive, but he had already said his piece earlier.

Shadowblade nudged Mute Spark forward, breaking her out of her reverie. The femme was nervous, there was no denying that. It wasn't often that she was self-conscious about her oddness, but this was one of those times. Sparklight had commented that the paint war had endangered the base. What would happen when everyone found out how she tended to panic while sparring, resulting sometimes in her opponent's near death? Sure, no one had been killed or even hit yet, but still . . .

Again, she had no chance to reflect further. Optimus Prime was approaching them, and she straightened, abandoning all appearances of nervousness. The look Prime gave her let the femme know he knew it was a mask. He, however, made no mention of it yet.

"Welcome to the command center. I feel I must congratulate you, Mute Spark, on your achievement last week."

Mute Spark blinked. _=Achievement, sir?=_

"Indeed. Granted, the game was immature in and of itself. Nor did you think through the consequences. However, you exhibited excellent characteristics and skills in this 'paint war' you and the three younglings participated in."

The femme could only stare at her commander in shock. What could he mean by that?

Prime leaned forward, conspiratorially. "It's not often you can surprise my soldiers, especially my second in command." Standing straight again, he gave the impression of a smile. "You were and are more mature than you realize, Mute Spark, more than many of my Autobots would have guessed. You feared punishment for your actions, did you not?"

Hesitantly, Mute Spark nodded. She had, at that.

"And yet you overcame that fear and participated anyway."

_=But I was afraid of being alone, as well,=_ she told him, feeling it would be unfair to not mention that. However, he only shook his head.

"You could have gone to any number of Bots. Yet, instead of doing that, you joined the younglings. Next, you carried out a well thought out plan worthy of a sniper such as Bluestreak, or a tactician such as Prowl. No, let me finish. Only when the younglings were discovered did you reveal yourself, and you displayed immense courage in taking all the blame on yourself, fearing punishment as much as you did. You knew time alone in the brig was a possibility, and yet you did it anyway. Not only that, but you lied – successfully – to my command staff to do it. You were loyal to your compatriots, fiercely even. When your lie was revealed, you still did not betray them. It took an accurate guess by Prowl and a flinching youngling to have the matter told."

Mute Spark blinked. _=I do not understand. I lied, and yet you say this is good?=_

"No." Prime shook his head. "From this point onward, I would hope that you never lie to us again. But the reason for your lying, the skill you pulled it off with . . . Stronger warriors have not been able to lie convincingly as you did. Some would envy you for that."

_=Oh . . .=_

"I'm told you get rather focused when on the job."

_=Yes. Others call them "modes" or "mindsets." On that subject, sir, I think I should warn you about-=_

"We know," Optimus Prime interrupted her. "Red Alert told us there was an 'interesting development' in the training room. We saw it all, and even heard Shadowblade's explanation. This is not a mark against you, Mute Spark. And the focus you gain when in certain situations is beneficial. Not being distracted is an excellent trait in a medic. As you are not fit for open combat, you will of course always need an escort when leaving the safety of the _Ark_."

The femme stared in surprise at the large mech as she realized the meaning of his words. With a nod, he confirmed her thoughts.

"You are ready for official duty as a medic in the Autobot ranks. As Prime, even though you have been inducted already, let me officially and formally welcome you to the Autobots. Your supervisor will be Ratchet, whom I believe you've met once already. Report to him in two joors. He will be expecting you."

Quivering in excitement, Mute Spark saluted. _=Thank you, sir!=_ She was grinning broadly, barely able to stay still.

Optimus Prime laughed. "You're welcome. You are dismissed."

The newly official medic exploded from her spot like a bullet from a barrel. _=Come on, Shadowblade!=_ she cheered excitedly, seizing his hand as she passed. _=Wait till Flareup hears this!=_

Shadowblade laughed as he was dragged along. Just as he had thought, everything was going to be just fine.

**...**

Prowl gave an uncommon smile as Mute Spark dragged her mech guardian out of the command center. "She is certainly an odd one."

Prime nodded in agreement. "So skilled, yet so vulnerable. So many mindsets, and always the same fears."

"The Aerial Bots terrified her until she realized that they didn't look like Seekers, and that they weren't."

"There were Seekers at the attack on Gamma Base, then."

"Recount reported there was one still there when Swift's and Shadowblade's squads swept through."

"Hmm. Why doesn't she speak?"

"You know as well as I, Prime, that she won't reveal that until she's ready. Is this the best idea, letting her work full-time like this?"

Prime nodded. "We need her. She needs to know that she is needed. She needs to know that she has a place among us, no matter what problems she has. She also needs to know that she is not going to be abandoned to whatever fate she thinks she has."

Prowl turned to give the Autobots working in the control center a sharp look, as they had been whispering among themselves. Startled and chastised, they hurriedly went back to their work. "That," he said with an acknowledging gesture, "is logical. And what fate, I wonder, is that?"

Optimus Prime frowned behind his battle mask. "I'm afraid that might only be answered with time."

* * *

**Thus concludes _Evaluation_**

**Continued in _Mission One: Meet Your Supervisor_**

* * *

Vorn = 83 years  
Orn = 13 days  
Joor = 6.5 hours  
Breem = 8.3 minutes  
Klick = 1.2 minutes

_Images of Mute Spark and Shadowblade are on my deviantART account._

Continued from _**Shadow of Doubt, Hope for The Future**_.

Volt and Sparklight (mentioned) belong to **Shioji-san**

Flareup, Shadowblade, Mute Spark, Charger, and Swiftcast belong to me (**FuzzySlipper**)


	8. Mission One: Meet Your Supervisor

Thanks for the reviews, **Forever Dreaming Grace** and **kellyviolinthebest**!

**Forever Dreaming Grace**- There's actually some deeper reason why he hates her, but that's still a secret. XD I will be getting to that after a few more installments, but that's closer to when she begins to actually deal with some of her problems. That she pranks him and almost killed him just gives him excuse for now. I'm actually wondering if anyone will think of what I'm planning or not . . . :-P

Sorry for taking so long, everyone! It's been up on deviantART for a little while, but I never got around to posting it here. Before that, I was in a musical and supremely busy. But I have my laptop back, now! It was broken over the summer, and it's been repaired. ^_^

* * *

**Mission One – Meet Your Supervisor**

By Falcon's Hyperdrive

A.k.a. Fuzzy Slipper

Begun 3-10-11

Finished 7-27-11

* * *

Of all her achievements, Mute Spark counted greatest her success in repairing Backdraft after a mission, her first solo repair job. Second-greatest, at least until she spoke out loud again, was being formally accepted into the Autobot ranks by none other than Optimus Prime himself. That had happened two joors ago, and she was now about to enter the Med Bay to report to Ratchet, as ordered.

The Med Bay was a sedate flurry of quiet activity, only five patients present and none for anything serious. The Bay was not understaffed by any means, even though one of the medics was a patient, herself. Mute Spark recognized Phoenix from one of her joors of exploration, though they hadn't been introduced to each other. The socially impaired femme only knew the other medic's name by hearing it called and seeing who responded. And then there was Delta, who seemed to have been dented by his friend Neci's crowbar again. The poor young warrior was only about as old as she was, meaning he hadn't been in his third frame all that long, but he had already been in a tough spot when arriving on Earth. Mute Spark had met him a few joors ago, but only briefly. There were three others whom Mute Spark couldn't name, but the medics outnumbered that by a few. Thankfully, Sparklight was not present, as the white femme wasn't keen on meeting him again so soon. Their previous encounter had been rather strained, after all.

Ratchet was busy at the time that she entered, fully focused on repairing his subordinate. Content to wait, Mute Spark slowly scanned the Med Bay to familiarize herself with its layout. The paint was over there, where Dash had stolen it from half an orn ago – a week. Humans functioned with the rotation of the Earth, she had found, meaning, currently, midnight to midnight was a day. It had been sunrise to sunrise, or sunset to sunset for the Israelites. The sun shone in the daytime, and it didn't at night. Seven days was a week, two weeks roughly equaling an orn. An orn was the equivalent of a human's day for a Cybertronian. It would take her, Mute Spark figured, a while to adjust to living on a planet with such a different schedule than she was used to. But she was supposed to be looking at the Med Bay, not letting her CPU wander into such meaningless tangents. Ah, there was where the tools were stored. She would get a full tour later, of course, but it never hurt to get a broad idea of what she was looking at. Oh! Extra parts were in that section.

Behind Mute Spark, the door swooshed open. Her senses were still a little on edge after the incident with Ironhide earlier, so her reflexes were in high gear. She whirled, startled, and forced herself to relax immediately upon sighting who it was.

Sideswipe and Sunstreaker, notorious pranksters and jet judo enthusiasts, were in the middle of an argument as they entered. The twin Lamborghinis were fairly oblivious to whatever else was around them, and Mute Spark was grateful that was the case. The hostility, however mild it was, was enough to trigger her run-and-hide mode, and she immediately began searching for a place to cower behind. Ratchet, having met her once before, seemed like a good Bot to use as a hiding spot, and she was about to take a step in his direction when she remembered . . . She was a medic. This was the Med Bay. Ergo, this was her realm.

Now if only she could make herself act like its princess.

Mute Spark steeled herself and forced her CPU to take on a different mode, that of the medic in her element. The red and yellow mechs were still bickering back and forth, and their incessant disagreement, whatever it was, was beginning to annoy her terribly. Finally, after waiting another moment to see if they would notice her, she snapped.

_=You two!=_ she hissed over the comm, spreading the fan blades on her helm and flaring her panels in a swift, sudden movement. She had been waiting for just a moment like this to reveal them to the Autobots not from the _Celestial_, and now was a prime time.

The Lambo Twins snapped their heads around and took a surprised step back. "What the heck?" Sideswipe blurted, and Sunstreaker didn't seem to know what to make of this, either.

Mute Spark let her optics burn whiter. _=Can you not see where you are? This is a Med Bay, not a debate hall! Take your argument somewhere else. That, or sit down and _shut up_! Are you even injured? If you are, take the latter option. If you aren't, and don't have a purpose here, leave!=_

The two mechs stared openly at her, and in the back of her processor Mute Spark realized she had attracted a good deal of attention from others in the Med Bay with her general broadcast. Oh, well, she could deal with that after these two annoyances were taken care of.

Sideswipe blinked, then blinked again as his brother rubbed at his own optics in a very human gesture. "What the heck?" he asked again, dumbfounded. A moment later, his own CPU kicked into gear. "Hey, you're that femme who doesn't talk. Mute Spark, right? The paint gun femme." His optics shifted their focus slightly, then he reached out a finger to poke at her helm. "What are you, a kitten?"

Mute Spark slapped the hand aside and bared her teeth in a silent hiss. Come to think of it, she did have cat-like tendencies. But right now, she wasn't about to agree with this idiot.

Sunstreaker pulled his twin back. "Lay off," he growled at the red one. Seeing at least some cooperation, she smoothed her panels and closed the fan blades. Sideswipe snickered, though, which prompted another hiss over the comm lines. "You really are a kitten, aren't you?" he asked in amusement.

Mute Spark didn't share the same sentiment. Stiffening, she readied herself for a reply. Before she could, however, a white and red form interposed itself between her and the twins. Glaring at the two, Ratchet voiced his unhappiness. "Enough!" he barked. "Both of you, shut it. Sideswipe, Sunstreaker, get your afts to empty berths for your diagnostics. Do _not_ harass my medics. Go!"

There was a scramble of activity as the two beat a hasty path as ordered, and Mute Spark made sure she was well out of the way of it. When they had gone, Ratchet snorted. "Imbeciles, the both of them. So, finally got the go ahead, Mute Spark?"

The femme nodded. _=Two joors ago. I was ordered to report here to you at this time by Prime. He, Prowl, and Flareup have cleared me for duty. That is, after you have, as well. I would also like to apologize for participating in the paint war, and for allowing the theft of paint from your Med Bay and the resulting mess and processor ache that ensued.=_

Ratchet raised a brow ridge. "Hmm, didn't expect a full apology from any of you lot. You're forgiven, but _don't do it again_. Understood?"

Mute Spark nodded, relieved. _=Yes, sir. You are aware, sir, that I need an escort every time I leave the base?=_

The chief medic snorted. "I don't mean to hurt your feelings, but who doesn't? And your guardians informed me about this Last Resort of yours and the things that can trigger it. Be careful to keep your emotions under control. Now, then, I trust you know the universal rules of the Med Bay?" At her nod, he continued. "I've got a few of my own, necessitated by . . . certain individuals."

Mute Spark snickered over the comm, glancing briefly at the rather subdued twins. _=I can imagine so.=_

"Yes, well . . . It tends to lose its novelty. The first is that if the mech or femme isn't too seriously injured, but is so through a result of their own stupidity, you're to leave them to me. This specifically applies to the Twins and Wheeljack, most often. Speaking of Wheeljack, rule number two. He is never allowed to apply upgrades without my express permission _and_ my presence."

Mute Spark nodded in acknowledgement. _=Leave the injured idiots to you, don't let Wheeljack experiment without you there. Got it.=_

"Good. Here's one for you, then. No cowering in the Med Bay, just do what you did a breem ago. Think you can do that?"

The femme nodded again. Yes, she did. Seeing that she had been able to shove aside her panic while in here, she figured she could do it as the situation called for it while in her environment.

Ratchet seemed satisfied by the confident attitude of her answer, so he filled her in on the rest of the rules. "Now, first task. Go fix up the blue femme in the corner. Her name's Kindle. Dismissed."

Mute Spark accepted the data packet on the layout of the Med Bay, then she saluted and hurried to her task. Behind her, Ratchet grumbled as he went to deal with the twins.

The silent femme smiled a greeting to Kindle. After a thorough scan, she quickly got to work repairing her injured arm. As she worked, Mute Spark allowed herself one stray thought.

_Things are bound to get interesting around here._

* * *

**Thus concludes **_**Mission One: Meet Your Supervisor**_

**Continued in **_**Guardian**_

* * *

Vorn = 83 years  
Orn = 13 days  
Joor = 6.5 hours  
Breem = 8.3 minutes  
Klick = 1.2 minutes

_Images of Mute Spark and Flareup are on my deviantART account. Other characters not owned by me can be found in the **Autobot-club**._

Mission One for the Autobot-club on deviantART. Continued from _**Evaluation**_.

Sparklight (mentioned) belongs to **Shioji-san  
**Delta Dash and Neci belong to**Silva-Strike****  
**Phoenix belongs to** rock-on-bexy  
**Flareup, Dash, Mute Spark, Backdraft, and Kindle belong to me, (**FuzzySlipper**)


End file.
